bombs on monday
by FloraIrmaTylee
Summary: Linh Cinder is supposed to be dead, but she's not. Instead, she finds herself in Scarlet Benoit's bomb shelter, aided by the elusive conman Carswell Thorne, and ultimately realizes that she isn't the only one running. (Kaider/Cresswell/Wolflet/Jacinter)
1. Chapter 1

**This idea has been stuck in my head since last summer. I wanted to try writing an au that doesn't focus on romance necessarily, because that's what stumps me. (um..hence why I haven't updated 'Still Breathing' in a year...) but I haven't been inspired to write for The Lunar Chronicles lately and this is my attempt to fix that. All the characters will be included in this, and all the canon ships too. It'll be very confusing at times but hopefully further chapters will clear it all up and I won't just fuck up an attempt at writing suspense/mystery/whatever the fuck this actually qualifies as. I don't want to delve deeper without giving away anything, so here's chapter one, ft. Cinder, Kai, Thorne, Scarlet, and Cress. (everyone else is introduced in later chapters!)**

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The chalk outline on the sidewalk is grimy and faded, its once bright white color dimmed by yesterday's rain and the excess water sloshes over the narrow sidewalk into filthy sewage gutters below. Frayed yellow caution tape, torn apart by last night's storm, no longer poses as a barrier to the curious early-morning jogging passerby or even for the body that was once traced into that outline.

Linh Cinder rubs her prosthetic hand deeper into its home of a fleece-lined glove, though it's an odd feeling to not be able to feel warmth- or, to feel the same flesh connection that she'd once had. Her black sweatshirt dwarfs her skinny frame and sways in the bitterly cold wind, a few stray strands of dirty brown hair slipping over her forehead and brushing her nose. She's crouched by the outline, and, essentially, her own crime scene, her other hand, the flesh one, also in a glove, pressed against the gritty sidewalk.

Behind her, Carswell Thorne shifts from foot to foot anxiously, hands pressed deep into the pockets of a pair of ratty denim jeans he considers a fashion faux pas but there's also what he considers a terribly cheap grey hoodie on his torso that he claims is damaging his supposedly sensitive skin, but. As shifty lowlifes went, Thorne is (in his own mind) the cream of the crop because he makes enough money to afford designer garb and seems to think that Dolce & Gabbana are his personal best friends. Oh, but the term 'con man' doesn't really suit him. He can always get you what you want for a price and it's usually expensive yet he delivers.

Even faking a death.

"I'm a shit person," Thorne informs Cinder when he finally speaks up rather than continue mumbling under his breath about the cold weather, "But I wouldn't actually kill anyone. You know that, right? Just so we're clear."

Cinder doesn't respond right away. The breeze that makes tree leaves dance above her reaches her face but she doesn't register the chill due to how transfixed she is on the place where she almost died. In retrospect, she didn't really pay Thorne to fake her death. He faked it himself, but he still expects compensation, which is shitty, but, she supposes that she does owe him her life due to his mixed morals or actual compassion seeping in.

"My sister," Cinder finally says. "She thinks I'm-"

"She thinks you're dead," Thorne finishes, and shivers, adding one last grumble about the state of the weather that befalls them at five in the morning before adding, "Sorry. But, the less people who know about you, the better. You can't contact her again."

Cinder doesn't cry often, and she can count on one hand the amount of times she'd actually done so. Yet, thinking of the anguish Peony must be in, imagining how Peony's sweet little face will crumble and how her lithe tiny body will shake with sobs, Cinder's eyes swell with tears. Cinder has only been awake for two hours since the long surgery that left her with new body parts and she wishes, oh, how she wishes she could tie up her loose ends rather than run away, but she can't. She needs to run to save herself and to start anew, because the people that wanted her dead almost succeeded.

"I know a girl who can help you," Thorne pipes up, pacing again, throwing a glare at the moon as if it's to blame for his own predicament. "She usually helps me out with code sixes. She can keep you off the radar. Kind of a safe haven, catch my drift? She can start you over. New place, new you. That kind of thing."

Cinder eyes Thorne. "Code sixes?"

"You're not the only one who needs to run away from their past," Thorne informs Cinder, glancing around warily, even though there's nobody that's incriminating nearby, or actually, there's no one nearby at all, not even any of the aforementioned hypothetical joggers that don't actually exist or go jogging in the worst part of town. "And, you're not even the only code six I'm sending her way, either. So let's get a move on before she thinks I've flaked, because, quite frankly, she's scary."

Cinder stands up, but she keeps staring at the spot where a coroner pronounced her dead and where the paramedics were carrying her towards the ambulance where she assumed would take her to a morgue but instead took her to a house, a house where a man performed a surgery on her and spoke to her in a gentle tone but if only Cinder could conjure his image, because all she imagines are bits and pieces of a smile and then she wakes up to find Carswell Thorne who tells her he's singlehandedly saved her life, which, she doesn't believe, so.

"Do you know who hired you?" Cinder asks, voice growing low, and for the second time that night tears come up, though they're more frustrated than anything. "To- dispose of me?"

Thorne looks away from Cinder when he speaks. "I don't believe in client confidentiality, sweetheart, but, I don't actually know. The person I talked to only communicated through an untraceable burner phone, with a modified voice. I have no idea why they were trying to kill you, and I was just the guy they hired to make you disappear."

"But I didn't die." Cinder is confused. "I didn't die. Why were the police here, why did they make this a murder, who is the person that-?"

"It was all part of the client's plan," Thorne apologetically looks uncomfortable about talking about the ordeal. "I don't know. Maybe they had the police in their back pocket, because I was there. The police didn't try to investigate anything. They drew a line, they left it at that, and then I came in."

"But how come I didn't die?" Cinder demands to know. She's facing Thorne now, eyes wide, and her hands are clenched at her sides. Thorne, hidden beneath the hood because he's too smart to let himself be seen by street cameras, almost cowers. "Whoever tried to kill me, they- they set me on _fire_ , Thorne. That should have killed me."

Thorne puts his hands up in surrender. "I wasn't there for the-"

"-attempted murder," Cinder fills in, with an edge to her voice. "I figured as much. But, I almost _died_ , and whoever it was that ordered this on me- they didn't bother to check to make sure they finished the job."

"I don't have all the answers to all your questions," Thorne interrupts. "I really don't. Because then you're going to start asking, why go through all the trouble to save me, Thorne? And that answer's kinda of complicated."

"What I _should_ be asking," Cinder interjects, "Is why you didn't just call in this tip to the police if you knew there would be a body for you to dispose of. For all I know, you _would_ have disposed of me if I'd actually been killed."

Thorne looks away, and down to the floor. "It's going to be light soon, sweetheart. Which means we've got to get a move on." He closes the topic off, no longer wanting to continue, and starts briskly walking in the direction of his 'discreet' vehicle; a motorcycle with an obscenely loud motor that Thorne swears is not junky nor is there anything wrong with it.

Cinder straddles the bike after Thorne seats himself on it, and puts the borrowed helmet on, her new fingers fumbling with the clasp as she almost drops it. Thorne's hood obstructs his face, so Cinder can't see what his face looks like, but as she holds onto his waist, she can feel that he's nervous.

She chalks it up to the impromptu crime scene visit, rather than doubt his ability to start her life from scratch, because she needs to believe in something, even if that something is a sketchy con artist.

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"A _what_?"

Scarlet Benoit doesn't bother to hide the two days' worth of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, nor does she bother to take off her muddy rubber gardening boots, hands on her hips, domineering presence making her wild red curls seem more threatening than they actually are, and causing the person who's accidentally muttered before her cower.

Crescent Moon Darnel takes a step backward, her bare toes sinking into the plushy mud-trekked carpet of the living room, lightly freckled cheeks aflame before she mumbles, again, "A code six."

Scarlet tosses the towel she's been holding to wipe down the granite countertops, and it lands with a wet slop onto the floor, which she doesn't even bat an eye at. "Right now? As in, besides the one who's sleeping?"

Cress nods. "She, well, she came in just this morning. With, C-Carswell Thorne."

Scarlet curses under her breath, a few choice words in her native tongue of French before she demands, "Let him _in_ , I suppose. He didn't tell me about her beforehand. He just told me to expect another body but I didn't know she was a _code six_." Grumbling, running a hand through her hair, she snaps, "Did he tell you about her?"

Cress shakes her head wildly. "Not at all. I assume I'll need to help her?"

Scarlet sighs. "He at the door?"

Cress nods, again.

Scarlet yanks open her front door with more force than necessary, the tarnished brass knob clutched tightly in her hand and then her brown eyes are blazing fury as she yells, "What the _fuck_ , Carswell?"

Cress peeps around Scarlet, face still red, as she surveys Thorne standing with a tall girl obstructed by a dark hood. The sun is barely breaking through the sky, and she can see the purplish orange hues and the moon's barely-visible silhouette. Distracted by that, she hardly registers when Thorne actually steps inside, with the girl pulled protectively by his side.

Scarlet is hissing something, and Cress catches the end of that. "...not mad at _her_ , Carswell, I'm mad at _you_! I should have been made aware of her state from the beginning to start preparation for extraction, to get Cress started on a new identification form, to-"

"Chill," Thorne interrupts. Scarlet bristles, and opens her mouth to start mouthing back in return, before Thorne presses a finger to Scarlet's open lips. She fumes, but obligatorily waits. "It wasn't planned, okay? I didn't even know if she'd be alive. But, we were just lucky."

Scarlet's thin patience can no longer tolerate Thorne's vague explanation. "What do you mean, _we were just lucky_? This is a _girl_ we're talking about! When you said a _body_ , I assumed you mean a _live_ one!"

"Well, she's alive, and she's here," Thorne cuts her off again. "I'll tell you every last detail. In _private_. I can't tell it all with ears all around." To Cress, he acknowledges, "Hey. Your dad fill you in?"

Cress blinks once or twice, visibly startled to have been addressed by Thorne, that much is obvious with her wide eyes and paled face. "My...dad?"

"Dr. Darnel is the person who brought her back from the brink of death," Thorne says. "Oh, right. Her name's Cinder. Well, actually, it's not. Her name is Selene Blackburn, but she was adopted into the Linh family and they named her Cinder. Or, that's her nickname. I don't know."

Linh Cinder pulls off her hood to reveal a thin, but pretty, face and matted, greasy brown hair pulled into a tangled ponytail. To Scarlet, she extends a gloved hand, a pair of gloves that are likely Thorne's because he looks pained to see that there is a dirt stain on the palm of one. "My name is Cinder. That's the name I've known."

Scarlet firmly shakes Cinder's hand, and she seems to soften. "I'm very sorry to hear you're on the run." Then, her face hardens. "You're not running from the law, are you?"

"No," Cinder says, honestly, and she draws her hand back to clamp onto the other arm's elbow. "I'm technically pronounced dead, and I _should_ be dead. But I'm not."

Scarlet eyes Thorne accusingly.

"Like I said," Thorne reiterates, being very closed off, "In private. All the details."

Scarlet grabs Thorne's arm. "We're talking. Cress," she addresses Cress next, "Do me a favor and take Cinder downstairs. Ease her in."

"Isn't the other code six I sent your way already here?" Thorne asks, which Scarlet confirms with a brisk nod.

Cress studies Cinder, and Cinder doesn't look like someone who's on the run. She mainly looks tired, more than anything, with bags under her eyes and a destroyed demeanor. Her appearance, besides the designer brand gloves, looks less than put together in a sweatshirt far too big for her to be wearing, hideous cargo pants, and a pair of hiking boots.

But Cinder follows Cress, down to the bomb shelter located right under Scarlet's house.

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He sits alone, for what feels like an eternity, with silent tears dripping down his cheeks, off his chin, to land onto the scratchy knitted wool blanket that covers his lap. The damp chill of the underground room overpowers any staunching of cold the blanket is supposed to be doing, but he doesn't mind. Or, rather, he doesn't care. The room is cold and empty save for a cot and a lightbulb hanging from the center of the room and he can hear the gentle murmuring of other stowaways kept in the bomb shelter of the Benoit farm, but, it's not enough.

He screams.

Sobs wrack his body and he heaves forward, off the cot, to kneel on the floor and grip onto his head and cry, cry harder, hands fisted in his own hair, desperation oozing out of every noise that comes out of his mouth until he's choking, choking on his own tears and they won't stop, they'll never stop, because he's an empty shell of himself and he's fucked up and it's not his fault, it's never been his fault, and if only he'd been more proactive.

Maybe his dad could still be alive.

The howls of anguish he's spouting- they make him sound insane. His dad is gone. He's gone, he's gone, he's _gone_ , and nothing will ever bring him back, least of all his sniveling son.

It's as if he's on fire. Except the fire consumes him entirely and leaves him smoldering to die, which, coincidentally, has happened to someone else.

The other code six.

The door to his room opens slowly, and the person on the other end has likely heard his entire breakdown, but it opens nonetheless. A delicate pitter-patter of feet enters first, he can hear rather than see, because he's staring at the floor. Next, comes a heavy clomping of shoes, but their shuffle is reluctant. Almost timid.

And then, quietly, "Kai?"

Kai looks up, eyes red, nose dripping, hair rumpled, and he is almost sorry at the sight of someone he recognizes. "Cress."

She's barefoot again, as she usually is, and she crouches right down next to him to ask, carefully, "Are you okay?" But it's rhetorical. He knows it is. She'd never ask such a stupid question, because Crescent Moon Darnel is the furthest from stupid there is.

"Yeah." A lie, as an answer to a rhetorical question. Kai doesn't care about ethics. He makes eye contact with Cress, at least, and he numbly stands up, pulling the wool blanket around his shoulders. "I was-"

Cress shakes her head. She already knows what he's been doing. "Kai, there's someone else here you should meet."

Kai looks towards the second person. She's been loitering in the corner of the room, too confused or maybe frightened to make a move towards Kai, because her hands are stuck deep into her pockets and she's fixated on the one lightbulb. Her hood and disheveled appearance should make her menacing, but it isn't. There's something in her that Kai recognizes, but it's not her physical features. It must be her broken expression, one that makes her seem more approachable than anything.

"Hi," Kai manages out, and he even fakes a smile. "Kai." And he holds out his hand.

The girl looks at him for a few seconds before she makes the trek across the room to take his hand and shake it, but she finally does, her gloved hand feeling very stiff and unresponsive. Almost immediately, she pulls it away, and she looks upset. "Cinder."

"Cinder is our latest code six," Cress explains, quietly. "Scarlet thought that maybe I could debrief the two of you together. On what happens next."

Kai sits himself down onto the cot, feeling like his legs are unstable, not trusting himself to move on just yet or even consider what would happen next. Cinder, in turn, braces herself against a wall and lets out a low, shuddering sigh, closing her eyes but nodding.

"Alright." Cress locks her hands behind her back, but she can't look Cinder or Kai in their eyes just yet. Maybe she understands the losses they've suffered that have led them all to this point in their lives where they've had to run, and had no other options than to run, or because she's too much of a sheltered person to make much human contact. "The first step is relocation. We need to find discreet areas, a ways away, that no one will think to look for you there. If you're ready, afterwards, will come disguises. You'll need to change some aspect of your physical features if possible. Simply to make your features less recognizable, such as a hair change."

"Change my hair," Cinder pipes up, and she looks distraught at the idea, bringing a hand to her scalp, the gloved hand stoic and unmoving. "Isn't there anything else I can do?"

Cress stops talking, flabbergasted. "Oh- I-I suppose you can wear...hats?"

Cinder fingers a strand of hair for a second before letting go of it, dejected and likely subjecting herself to the possibility of a hair cut.

"Afterwards," Kai says, softly, as if it's only just occurred to him, his eyes gleaming with something akin to hope, "We'll be free to do- whatever we want?"

"Yes," Cress confirms, giving a brisk nod as she returns to all business. "With my help, we'll forge documents. Birth certificate, passport, work history, social security, the works. And, if anything ever catches up with you again, we keep on running, and the process restarts itself."

Cinder's head shoots up. "But-" she trails, almost retracting her words, before she manages to ask-"Is running the _only_ option I have?"

Cress, surprised, puckers her lips into an O shape. "A-As a general rule," she stammers out, "We don't make it a priority to learn the backstory on _why_ you're running away, as long as you're not running from the law. But, our code sixes..they usually end up here when they _have_ no other options."

At this, Cinder sneaks a look at Kai, probably wondering why it is that he is there, and why he is a code six, also wondering what led him to this point in his life, stuck in the bomb shelter of a farm that specializes in rehabilitation of outcasts.

Kai, in turn, sneaks a look at _Cinder_ at the same time, likely confused at the state of her presence and why she doesn't seem to willingly want to be there.

The instant each one catches the other looking, they both stare at the floor and try to play it off as if they were looking towards the walls.

"If you don't want to tell us the circumstances that have left you here, on Benoit farms," Cress says, soothingly, "You don't have to. If you'd like, you can talk to me, or Scarlet, privately."

Cinder lets out a shaky breath, and she nods. "I think I should."

"Whenever you're ready." Cress fiddles with a strand of blond hair for such a long time before she realizes, "There is also the question of your lodging. There's a room adjacent to Kai's, would it suit you?"

Cinder nods, and Kai notices that she has a dirt stain on her chin. "That's fine."

"Good." Cress turns to address Kai next, careful not to show how pitying her expression truly is and barely masking her sadness with a quivery almost-smile. "I'll see you at mealtime, right? And you know that I can talk to you if you need it."

Kai can feel that Cinder's eyes are looking at him again, and can garner that she must be wondering how he could have been screaming so terribly moments ago, or that she's likely thinking that he's pathetic, a twenty-year-old man crying as if he's two years old. He ignores that as well as he can, because he does know that he must be a sight, with an itchy blanket pulled around his shoulders, rumpled black hair, and reddened eyes. "Yeah."

"Okay." Cress's next attempt at a smile is almost comforting and certainly passable as one, too. She gestures for Cinder to follow her, and Cinder does, but not without locking eyes with Kai, just once more, and surveying him, confused, while Kai stands still and doesn't tear his gaze away first.

He also notices that she's pretty.


	2. Chapter 2

**I forgot to mention it in the first chapter, but if you didn't already know, the title of this story comes from Melanie Martinez's "Bombs on Monday," which an unreleased song of hers that's really pretty and reminds me of The Lunar Chronicles and it's worth a listen if you get the chance- listen to me shamelessly promote the love of my life bUt;;;**

 **The previous chapter was intentionally confusing lmao and I'm just writing this thinking 'yes I'm so mysterious leave them guessing' when in reality it's more like 'what the fuck is all of this' . I'm attempting to tie up all loose ends but I have no idea how long this story will end up being...anyway I'm striving for a weekly update schedule, before my life is devoid of all free time which will inevitably happen by February and/or when VLD season 2 comes out. Thank you to the interest shown! I adore it when you guys review, it means a lot :)**

 **Also this chapter doesn't do much on clearing things up and it's rather short. But it does introduce more of the TLC crew!**

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Sun rays warm Jacin Clay's bare shoulders, and he winces, as it is no longer a comforting heat but instead the promise of a sunburn, one hand moving to push away long strands of sweaty blonde hair away from his neck. He considers it idiocy- the idea of being outside, of doing something as mundane as _swimming_ , but he can't refuse, not when it's his boss's doing that he's even outside at all. Dr. Darnel is a surgical genius, but he's also kind of a lunatic, and he had told Jacin quite cheerfully over breakfast that instead of doing work that they would relax and have a day in the backyard pool, with his daughter, no protests allowed.

Jacin thinks that the implementation of "no protests allowed" as a stipulation of the evening is, quite frankly, unnecessary and cruel.

Cress, wearing a navy blue one-piece suit covered in white polka dots, gripping her towel in two hands, carefully dips one toe in the pool water and gasps, her entire body shuddering, as she jumps backwards onto the hot pavement, bare feet dancing on the heated surface in a odd series of hops. "It's cold!"

Jacin rolls his eyes so far back that he thinks he can see the back of his own head, but it's not at Cress- he likes Cress, actually, more than he likes anyone else, so he doesn't try to get annoyed with her. He's more so rolling his eyes at the idea of submerging his own (possibly sunburned) self into that chlorine-infested, seemingly harmless, pool of shimmering teal.

Dr. Darnel, who's already been swimming for a good part of twenty minutes, laughs happily at his daughter. "It's not bad, Crescent, let yourself get used to the water, and then it won't be cold anymore."

Cress throws Jacin a dejected frown, as he's currently seated at the edge of the pool, calves swishing through the water nonchalantly. "I'm not going to get in if _you're_ not."

"Technically I'm already in," Jacin deadpans, unamused, and kicks water at Cress for good measure, who shrieks and darts out of the way, but not without droplets striking her legs.

Huffing, Cress takes a step into the pool, at the edge where an underwater series of stairs leads to the least deep side of the pool, which is four feet. Her towel lies abandoned at the edge of a chair by the poolside, sure to be warmed by the sun on account of there being no breeze. She winces at the feeling of the water, and directs another frown towards Jacin. "I blame you for this."

Jacin shrugs. And a smile plays on the side of his mouth, just slightly. "Sure, shortcake."

Dr. Darnel pulls himself out of the pool, water sloshing onto the pavement with each of his movements, and the older man groans, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight. "I'm not as spry as I once was," he laments, and stands up with the help of a chair, grabbing his own towel from its resting spot on the back. "I think I've sprained something."

"Do you need help, dad?" Cress asks, as she's in the process of taking another step down the ladder, the pained expression on her face worsening, her hands balled into fists in an attempt to stave off the chill.

"No, no, I'm just fine- I think I'll go inside. Let you youngsters enjoy the day." Dr. Darnel has an oddly smug smile on his face as he walks in a suspiciously straight manner towards the house. "Don't forget to reapply your sunscreen!"

"Okay, dad." Cress takes another step in, and eyes her dad's retreating figure. As he enters the house, and the door closes behind him, she finally asks, "Is it just me, or is he planning something?"

Jacin looks towards Cress and snorts. "You hack government databases on the regular, but you can't see what your dad's doing?"

"What? Well, what _is_ he doing, if _you_ know?" Cress challenges, and submerges herself up to her shoulders, shivering.

"He thinks I like you, so he's leaving us alone."

"Ughhhh," Cress screws her eyes shut, clamping her hands over her ears, "Why would you tell me that?"

Jacin grins, amusement seeping into his words. "Your dad's trying to set you up with me."

"No he's- oh, God, I think you're right," Cress suddenly amends, eyes growing wide, "Every time Scarlet calls for you, he sends me text messages- with heart emojis- saying that you're visiting Benoit farms."

Jacin laughs, and if Cress weren't so horrified, she'd notice that that's the happiest she's seen Jacin in a while- not at the idea of dating Cress, of course, because he doesn't like her, but because it's hard to imagine someone as smart as Dr. Darnel being completely oblivious. "Dr. Darnel's playing matchmaker. Who knew."

"He thinks I like you!" Cress exclaims, hands covering her mouth, splashing in the water while doing so, and as she continues, her voice is muffled yet alarmed. "My dad thinks I have a crush on you so he keeps on trying to get us alone!"

"It's too bad he doesn't notice how red you get around _Carswell Thorne_."

Cress purposefully splashes in Jacin's direction so that he can get the chlorine-scented water onto his swimming trunks, but she is, in fact, growing alarmingly red. "I don't!"

"You kinda do," Jacin counters, and he kicks more water in Cress's direction again, irritated because he hates that chlorine scent so very much.

Cress hugs herself, still not used to the water, biting her lower lip but stopping when she _tastes_ the damn chlorine. "Do I really?"

"He's an asshole." Jacin's playful, teasing tone suddenly drops in favor of his usual seriousness.

Cress doesn't respond right away, a nagging feeling of guilt growing stronger, and she closes her eyes, plugs her nose, ducking her head underwater, soft tendrils of hair stroking her face and the chill of the water overwhelmingly and utterly, astonishingly, _cold_. Jacin's words play in her head over and over again, for a dizzying minute, as her thoughts run at a speed too fast to comprehend, heartbeat accelerating rapidly, _he's an asshole, he's an asshole, he's an asshole_ , until she can't take it anymore.

When she comes back up for air, Jacin has retracted his legs from the water and is frowning at the fence that separates the backyard from the front of the house. Cress follows his line of vision, and at first glance it seems completely fine, the same worn wooden fence with knotholes, but then, just over the top of the wooden barrier, she can see something moving, and it looks like hair, as in, someone's head.

Then, there's a knock.

On the fence door.

Jacin stands, abruptly, his mouth unmoving in a thin line. "I'm going to get Dr. Darnel." And he balls a hand into a fist, with Cress recognizing what that means; he's on edge, as unannounced visitors to the Darnel house usually means trouble- if it's not Scarlet sending someone over for medical attention, it's someone else who can't go to a hospital for any sort of reason, and those people are the most trouble, because they're not as ethical as Scarlet's clientele, not that Dr. Darnel would ever turn them away.

Cress pulls herself out of the water, too, nervously, her soaked hair heavy and weighing down her scalp, numb fingers tangling in it as she bunches it in her hands and wrings it out. "Did Scarlet send any word about expecting someone?"

Jacin shakes his head, and Cress notices that he's had his cell phone nearby, ever on standby for word from Scarlet. "No."

A knock sounds again, and Cress jumps, as it's louder and more frantic than before, and her anxiety builds. She wonders, briefly, why whoever is knocking can't knock on the front door, but then she unconsciously takes a step towards the gate.

Jacin grabs her shoulder to stop her from moving any further, a frown imbedded on his lips. "I'm going to get your dad."

"We can't leave them outside, Jacin, it might catch attention," Cress protests, and she shivers, knocking Jacin's hand off. "We should see who it is."

Jacin narrows his eyes, and glances towards the fence. "Stay back," he instructs, and takes careful steps towards the fence gate, and towards the latch that opens it, while Cress obligatorily stays rooted in the same spot, the heels of her feet burning as the sun dries them up again.

Cress tries not to seem scared, as someone knocking on the fence isn't as terrifying as it's made out to be, but when Jacin closes his fingers onto the latch she can't help it, and she closes her eyes, squeezing them shut, barely even hearing when Jacin barks out a harsh "Who's there?" and the unmistakable sound of the door hinges squeaking reach her ears.

When Cress opens her eyes again, she looks right at the most beautiful girl she's ever seen, and it's as if an angel has wandered into her line of vision, the sun's rays shining through the girl's thick black curls like a halo, which almost makes Cress overlook the blood dripping down the girl's cheek.

The girl is stumbling, holding onto the fence gate for support, and Jacin is completely stoic, a foot or so away, never easing up on his familiar untrusting stare. Cress involuntarily steps forward, arms outstretched, and catches the girl before she falls, staggering under the weight, before Jacin grabs the girl's arm and puts it around his shoulders so that the two of them are supporting her.

"Please," the girl pleads, and her hazel colored eyes swim with tears. Cress's hand clutches onto the girl's white nightgown, the pearly ivory color marred with dirt and stained with grass. "I need to find Selene. I need to know where she is."

 _Selene_ \- the name rings a bell in Cress's mind, but she can't place where. "Who is Selene?" she prompts, worriedly, looking towards Jacin, who is in turn entirely still, and can't quite look the girl in the face. "What is- what is your name?"

"Winter," the girl manages to say, but her eyes lull closed a second later. "I need- to find-"

"We have to get her inside." Jacin's voice is low, and he looks at the front yard of the house, but it seems as if Winter has no following, though it appears that she's running from something or someone.

Cress slowly shuffles to the back door of the patio, and helps Winter's fumbling legs step slowly, her feet clad in slippers, legs bleeding, and she makes eye contact with Jacin before he opens the back door.

He's confused.

And Cress is worried.

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The laces on her worn brown hiking boots are untied, dragging in slush, and her denim jeans, while always worn out and dirty, have torn around her knee, while her gun stays secured, luckily, tucked into her pants. Scarlet's materialistic appearance is the least of her worries, but she's fuming, her face as red as her hair, and she's not dressed appropriately for the sunny summer weather because of the sweatshirt she refuses to take off. The thick curls that bob around her face are tangled, dirty, and in her way, yet she has nothing to pull them back and settles for tucking the unruly strands behind her ears, her hands firmly grasping the handle of her second-best axe, attempting to free it from the tree trunk that it is deeply embedded in. In frustration, she kicks at the muddy grass, but the axe won't budge.

Scarlet stares up at the bright blue sky, squinting past the sun to see sparse clouds moving slowly, the temperature causing a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but making a vague guess, she comes to the conclusion that it's past noon, and she has no firewood yet to start a fire in the stove. It's fairly ironic that she lives on a farm to "get off the grid" and live amongst nature while simultaneously having ridiculously fast internet service for Cress...Scarlet doesn't even have an electric stove, hence, the need for the firewood.

A familiarly heinous rumbling sounds, just past the grove of trees, which coaxes Scarlet away from her dilemma and she follows the noise all the way to the farm's drive, abandoning her axe in favor of greeting Carswell Thorne on his motorcycle, which he should really get checked out- Scarlet's no mechanic, but it sounds faulty.

She stalks in front of him, eyes narrowed, as he's taking off his helmet, and she can see that his hair is free of hair gel, which must mean that there is some form of crisis, and thus all hostility slips away.

"What's wrong?" she barks as a greeting.

Thorne cryptically raises an eyebrow. "You look like shit, sweetheart."

The hostility returns, and Scarlet scowls, as he's not exactly in top shape himself. "That's not an answer, Carswell."

"Alright, geez, no need to bring up my first name- I got a call from Dr. Darnel. He's got himself a new patient." Thorne pauses here, and rearranges the helmet in his hands to tuck it under his arm. "Her name's Winter. Winter Hayle-Blackburn."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Scarlet asks, exasperated. "Get to the point."

"She's looking for Selene. Er- Cinder. You know, the code six I brought in a couple of days ago? Yeah. Apparently, that's her cousin." Thorne shrugs it off. "They don't look anything alike, but whatever, she's not exactly- all there, you get it? Anyway, I figure I should tell Cinder about her. And Dr. Darnel says she needs a place to stay. Another runaway."

Scarlet gives a brisk nod, having expected as much. "That's fine. When she's recovered, send her my way. I sent off the last family yesterday, so there's only the two code sixes in the shelter for the time being; Cress hasn't sent me anything about their possible relocation yet."

"About that." Thorne looks a bit nervous, but he sets his helmet down onto the motorcycle seat and rubs at the back of his neck. "Besides Winter, I was hoping you'd take another one in."

"Another one?" Scarlet narrows her eyes at Thorne. "What latest scheme have you gotten mixed up in now?"

"Nothing bad." Thorne doesn't look at Scarlet when he says, "She needs to get out of a bad situation, just like everyone else."

"And how did you find her?" Scarlet questions, suspiciously.

"Look, I can't exactly- tell you, it's not exactly _legal_ -"

"Like that's stopped you before." Scarlet grabs Thorne's arm and yanks him towards the house, before he begins to protest about his leather jacket being _Versace_ or something stupid like that. "If you want to talk in private, let's talk inside."

Ten minutes and half a pot of coffee later, Thorne sits at the kitchen table while Scarlet stands by the kitchen counter, her hands gripping the granite edge so tightly that her knuckles are white.

"Of course she can stay." Scarlet breaks the silence first, voice low with anger, as she stays still. "I wouldn't say no to her. Thorne, I'm worried-"

"Don't worry about me." Thorne drinks the last bit of his now-cold coffee, and he smiles brightly. "I've done worse, you know I have."

"It's not safe for you," Scarlet protests. "You're talking about one of the most dangerous women in the city, Thorne, and she's not going to let you get away with this."

"Relax, sweetheart." Thorne's cocky grin stays on his face as he pours himself another cup of coffee, and Scarlet bites her lower lip, watching Thorne take a drink from his cup with obvious pity. "I can get myself out of this mess. I always have."

Scarlet sighs. And she admits, "Just...be careful, okay? I need you around here."

Thorne's grin seems to get bigger, were it possible. "Why, Scarlet, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were _flirting_ with me."

"Shut up, Carswell." And Scarlet almost smiles, even if he's infuriating. "Where is she now?"

"Dr. Darnel's. He's giving her a checkup. He needs to make sure she's not hurt. Besides, Cress is looking over her, and-"

The front door creaks open and slams closed.

Scarlet jerks her head forward, eyes wide, and Thorne's words die in his mouth, Scarlet's hand reaching to the waistband of her jeans, her fingers closing over the barrel of her gun and whipping it out so quickly that Thorne almost misses it.

She points it towards the kitchen door, while Thorne fumbles and trips on his chair just to stand behind her and out of the way of the intruder.

It's a large, hulking man, with dark hair that frames his face messily, a tattered t-shirt stretched tight against his chest, and Scarlet's axe is in his hands.

His eyes are a piercing green, and he looks right at Scarlet, nonchalant about the gun trained on his figure, acting as if it's completely normal to have opened a locked door and walked into a stranger's house. He holds out the axe. "This is yours."

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The boots on Cinder's feet are borrowed from Scarlet, and they're gardening boots, which for some reason has to mean that they're sunshine yellow with a pink flowery design- Cinder hardly pays any attention to them or the rusty red that stains the soles and looks suspiciously like dried blood. Scarlet's farm isn't much, besides an old cow, some chickens, and a thriving garden of crops, but she'd rather spend her time outdoors and contemplate her life choices than do it underground on an old cot.

Cinder's gloved hand- the flesh one- presses itself against the splintery wood of the barn door and she sighs, her releasing breath the best feeling she's had all day. Sure, she's listening to chickens squawking and all she has to do is stare at said chickens while the cow chews cud in the corner of her eye, but she can't seem to think in the bomb shelter, and the noise of the barn is oddly comforting, even if Cinder's not a big outdoorsy kind of person. It also helps take her mind off things. Cinder is very, very confused, and she doesn't know what Scarlet does. Or _why_ she does the things that Cinder doesn't quite understand, such as the rehabilitation of people that are wanted dead and instead disappear. It's nice of Scarlet, sure, to help her, with Thorne's involvement and that girl Cress, but Cinder doesn't know why. _Why_ they dedicate their time to causes such as Cinder's. Hell, Cinder doesn't even know _why_ she should be dead.

And she doesn't know what to make of Kai.

"Cinder?"

Cinder whirls around, unwittingly clenching her prosthetic limb in a fist because it could potentially cause more damage than her flesh one, before- speak of the devil- facing Kai, who's face is shadowed in a large forest green hoodie and he's lurking just behind her, an apologetic smile lingering on his face, and Cinder wonders how he could have opened the barn door without her hearing before casting her eyes towards the actual culprits, which were the loud chickens.

"Sorry," he apologizes, sheepishly, looking rather guilty, "I saw you leave, and I didn't want to stay in the shelter by myself. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh." Cinder tries to ignore that his gaze makes her feel uneasy. "It's okay. I feel too- constricted in there. Scarlet said I could look around the farm, so I did."

"I didn't know she had animals here." Kai looks interested, and he's actually smiling. _He's handsome when he smiles_ , Cinder notices, but then she puts that thought out of her head the second her traitorous brain comes up with it.

"Yeah," Cinder says, and watches as a hen cranes her neck to peck at some grain on the ground. The barn is dimly lit with the sun just breaking through the smudged windows lining the sides of the structure, and it's a homely scene. "It's nice."

Kai crouches on the ground, taking on some sort of condescendingly babying tone as he coos, "Here, chicken," patting his knee as if he expects it to come closer like a dog.

Cinder can't help but crack a smile, which is surprising in itself. "I don't think that's going to work."

"Damn." Kai straightens, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. "I don't know what chickens eat. Or if these chickens have names."

Cinder laughs, and Kai looks at her, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You have a nice smile," Kai states, and as if he's just remembering himself, blooms red. "Uh, I-I mean, you should smile more often. Being happy suits you."

Cinder glances towards the floor, and she _knows_ she's blushing now, stomach fluttery. "Thanks."

"So, uh, have you been here long?" Kai gestures to the barn surroundings.

"I've been trying to understand some things." Cinder crosses her arms, and she leans against the wall, almost feeling sorry about bringing up the topic that hangs heavy between them. "I'm just- in the dark about a lot of it all."

"Right. Code six." Kai pauses, and scratches at his ear. "I'm supposed to be dead, you know?"

Cinder bristles. "Kai-"

"No, I mean, I haven't really talked to Scarlet or Cress or anyone about it, and I'm just as as confused as you are. On what this place is, really." Kai _does_ look sorry for bringing up the topic. "I get that they're helping us. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Thorne."

Cinder shakily exhales, and she could practically laugh at the idea. "That makes two of us."

"He's a selfless person." Kai sounds so genuine that Cinder wonders if they're talking about the same person, considering Carswell Thorne had swaggered up to her in an unfamiliar bed wearing designer garb and making a joke about how his fees could be payed after Cinder's rehabilitation. At least, she thinks it's a joke, but then he had begun spouting six-figure numbers in her direction when Cinder was still groggy from sleep, so she isn't sure.

"Selfless. That's- Thorne," Cinder agrees, and she might actually laugh, though she hasn't known Thorne for that long and is already poking fun at his personality.

"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you." Kai seems flustered, and he's still a bit red, and likely he assumes that Cinder's awkward interactions are because she's too nice to tell him to leave when in reality Cinder's just not great with people. "You probably came here to be alone."

"No," Cinder blurts out, a tad too loudly, voice bordering on frantic, and she corrects herself quickly. "I mean- no. You're fine. It's nice to have someone to talk to."

"Yeah?" Kai looks hopeful, and he's really, really, _really_ cute when he's smiling.

Cinder tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stares into his eyes as she confirms, bashfully, "Yeah."


	3. Chapter 3

**I forgot to upload this chapter last night, it just slipped my mind lmao. Disclaimer: I don't speak French, so I used google translate- if I've gotten anything wrong, don't hesitate to correct me on that ! To the anon asking if Cinder is a cyborg: no, she isn't, this is a modern-ish type au, so her limbs are only prosthetic, they're not cybernetic in this fic- hence, Cinder can cry/blush in this universe. Hope that clears things up! Thanks for those lovely reviews :)**

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" _Cherish is the word I use to describe_ -"

"I hate this song."

Winter's curls bob as she sits up straight, her lolling head lifting from where it's been pressed against the polyester green-brown fibers of the couch, and a lovely smile settles onto her lips as she studies her new companion.

Iko's blue braids are pulled up into a makeshift bun, and all she wears are a tight pair of pajama bottoms in neon purple and an oversized, wrinkled, bright yellow t-shirt with an airport logo on it. She's smiling, too, and her sentence has only been said jokingly, as she's enjoyed poking fun at what she calls Winter's "old-fashioned" taste in music. Tucking her feet up to her side, Winter watches as Iko takes a seat next to her on the couch.

"How did you sleep?" Winter asks, and she leans against Iko, clutching onto the other girl's arm, familiarized with her because of how much time they have spent together under Dr. Darnel's scrutinizing gaze.

"Good. You?"

Winter hums agreeably. "The nightmares have lessened in intensity."

Iko strokes Winter's hair. "What's the doctor's verdict?"

"That I am quite well. The gauze on my cheek comes off tomorrow." Winter closes her eyes, breathing in steadily, to the tune of The Association.

" _That I'm not gonna be the one to share your dreams_ -"

"Honestly, this song sucks." Iko frowns at the CD player in the corner of the room. "Why does the doctor have such old music?"

"It's a beautiful song." Winter opens her eyes, beaming, and looks towards the CD case. "My father had this song on a record. He liked to dance to it with my mother, before she passed away."

Iko stiffens. "Sorry."

"You didn't know, my friend." Winter lifts her head from Iko's shoulder and gives Iko a bright smile. "Come." She grabs Iko's hands and pulls her off the couch, pulling her close, swaying with her in time to the music, curling her fingers around Iko's and tucking her head back into the slope of Iko's neck, eyes lulling shut, breathing in deeply but only smelling antiseptic ointment and a clean, soapy fragrance.

" _You don't know how many times I've wished that I had told you_ -"

The door to the living room swings open and slams against the wall, with a figure rapidly stalking into the room, and Iko jerks away from Winter's hold to find herself staring into the steely gray eyes of Jacin Clay.

He has the decency to look embarrassed, at least.

He coughs to clear his throat and pointedly doesn't look in Winter's direction as he says, "Thorne hasn't returned."

Iko feels her blood run cold at all of the implications that one statement has, and feels Winter's hands slip out of her fingers. "But-" she trails, not bothering to finish the statement, and settles for worrying.

"He said he would only take a half hour at the most, and it's been an hour." Jacin runs a hand through choppy tendrils of blonde hair and looks angry. "Of course we can't ignore that he might just be busy helping Scarlet, but, neither of them will pick up their phones."

"What can we do?" Winter asks, and she tucks her arms behind her back, gaze unwavering.

"Nothing. Don't- don't worry about it," Jacin starts stammering when he makes eye contact with Winter and he forces himself to look away, even as his cheeks tint. "I'm heading over there myself, with Cress. I've only told the both of you this so that you'll be up to date on all of our affairs. The last thing we'd like is for you to feel excluded."

"Does it mean that something bad happened?" Iko questions, and she feels woozy, grabbing onto Winter's forearm to steady herself as the panic builds. "I can't stay behind, not if Thorne is in danger, I can't-"

"There's no guarantee that he's in danger," Jacin interjects. "He could be perfectly fine. This is simply a precautionary measure. It doesn't mean he's been compromised."

"If you insist, then we will try not to worry ourselves." Winter clamps a hand over Iko's, while the stereo plays the last few lines of the song and envelopes the room in tension-filled silence.

Iko still looks uncertain. "You're sure there's nothing we can do?"

"Yes," Jacin confirms, and he looks towards a clock on the wall above the couch. "We'll be back soon."

Winter cocks her head curiously, staring towards Jacin's waistline. "You're carrying a pistol."

Jacin clamps his hand over the weapon jutting above his jeans and blooms red, though perhaps it's because Winter has addressed him directly. "It's-"

"-a precautionary measure," Iko echoes his earlier statement, but she doesn't look so convinced.

Jacin clears his throat to speak, but then Cress walks in, her hair plaited into a neat braid and the summery pastel pink skirt she's sporting far less severe then Jacin's gun-touting ensemble.

"My father said he'd keep an eye on things," she murmurs, and places a hand on Jacin's arm.

Jacin nods blindly, but when he actually looks at Cress, he smirks. "A bit dressed up, aren't you?"

Cress blushes, and she tugs on his hand. "Come _on_."

"Come back safely," Winter says, cheerfully, to their retreating backs once they bid them goodbye, until they're walking out of the front door.

Iko watches them go, her lower lip between her teeth. "We're following them, aren't we."

"But of course." Winter smiles, just as the front door locks. "Thorne has gone to seek my dear cousin. If his life is at risk, then it means we should do all in our power to ensure his safety."

Iko frowns. "There _is_ the matter of Dr. Darnel."

"Oh, goodness." Winter's face falls. "Likely he wouldn't let us leave."

Iko ponders this silently, eyes downcast, before she snaps her fingers and straightens. "I've got it!"

"Hmm?" Winter blinks.

There's a devilish smile tweaking Iko's lips as she states, "Trust me."

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Thorne's designer gloves that Cinder still hasn't given back are now enveloped in cobwebs, which Cinder is sure Thorne would be thrilled to learn, and she gingerly rubs the suede material against the gritty surface of a wooden post, keeping an eye on the chickens scattered about as they peck at grains and cluck noisily. In retrospect, Cinder considers that maybe she should've been more careful when excavating for the rake in the back of the shed, but what's done is done and Thorne's gloves really aren't the most important thing on her mind.

Kai lets out a frustrated grunt as his fingers clumsily grapple with a stubborn patch of weeds by the strawberry plants. "How does Scarlet _do_ this?"

Cinder shrugs, as she's as unaccustomed to the farm as Kai is. "I'm not sure." The rake, gripped in her hands, is digging through the hardened ground and sweeping up the too-ripe plums that have fallen from their grove, and while the labor is something Cinder volunteered to help Scarlet with, and Kai had followed suit, in reality, they're helplessly devoid of agricultural expertise.

"She must have a lot of patience." Kai is cross-legged, firmly seated on the ground, but he's unperturbed, even when a few chickens peck at his worn jeans. The trowel in his hand is supposed to be his main tool when digging, but even from her standing position Cinder can see the dirt on his hands which suggests he's given up and is instead using his nails to plow through the earth.

Cinder yanks the heavy rake closer to her body, trapping the mushy fruit in its prongs, and she winces; it's all a mess, really. "I don't think I'm doing this right." When Scarlet had given Cinder a basic tutorial on the workings of the rake, Cinder had thought it'd be easy, but now she's coming to understand that her arm movements aren't as thorough nor as strong as Scarlet's.

Kai looks up at Cinder, cocks his head, and smiles. It's as if sunshine itself is presented in a human body as he cheerfully states, "I think you're doing great." He looks back to the strawberry plants, and to the pitiful pile of weeds he's managed to extract from the ground, and goes back to work.

Cinder tries not to seem like his kind words bother her, but she's never had anyone speak to her in a way that wasn't demeaning. Instead, she hurriedly looks away and pulls the rake a little more frantically, her eyes daring away from Kai and towards the edge of the farm, where she can see shadowy figures lurking just beyond the fence and emerging from the woods.

Wait.

Cinder drops the rake, suddenly nervous, and the loud clang of its impact causes Kai to snap to attention, the trowel in his hand abandoned as well.

"What is it?" he asks, worriedly, and he's staring at Cinder, who's transfixed on the woods and barely feels the embarrassment of his intent gaze.

Cinder squints, but she can't see them anymore; the trees are stoic and the leaves immobile, the shaded grass under the trees familiar, with nothing out of place. "I thought- I thought I saw-"

Kai follows her gaze to the woods. "Saw what?"

"Nothing. It couldn't have been-" Cinder falters, the words dying on her tongue, and she instead forces herself to look away and focus on her task, bending over to pick the rake back up again.

The sun stays high in the air, telling of the time, as the heat continues to grow unbearable, but other than the sounds of the tools, it's silent, deathly so, as stifling as the humid air. Cinder is on edge, and she stays that way, so it's really no surprise that as soon as she hears "Hello, dear cousin," directed her way that she jumps and likely yells. But she can't be sure.

There's an outlandishly gorgeous woman smiling at Cinder, just emerging from the grove of fruit trees. The woman looks like an ethereal being in a pearly white nightgown, with bright hazel colored eyes and coily dark curls that frame a beaming face perfectly. She's holding someone's hand, too, another woman, one with ill-fitting sleepwear and bright blue braids.

"You're more beautiful than I remember." The woman reaches forward and brushes a strand of hair away from Cinder's forehead, her fingertips soft as silk and oddly soothing.

Kai has stood up sometime when Cinder was preoccupied, but she hardly notices his expression and can't deduce if he's confused or if he's shocked. Perhaps both.

"You must be Selene!" The woman with blue braids is smiling towards Cinder, and she holds out a hand. "Winter's told me so much about you! I'm Iko."

 _Winter_...Cinder whips her head to focus on the one who has called her "cousin," but she's never seen her in her life. "I-I'm sorry, I don't-"

"It's been years." Fondly, Winter strokes Cinder's cheek. "I haven't seen you since we were children, Selene."

Selene. The name Thorne had told her was her birth name, but it was a name Cinder hadn't thought about. She didn't think- she didn't think she had any family other than her adoptive one, but...

Cinder takes Iko's hand in her own, but she's no less confused than before. "I'm not sure- who-"

"You don't remember me." Winter frowns, and she looks towards the farm house. "I should have prepared for such an event but alas, I have not. To think I have gone in search for you, only to learn that you have no memory of me."

Iko turns from Cinder to see where Kai has been standing silent, and she gasps. "It's-!"

Kai uncomfortably rubs at his neck and averts his gaze. Winter looks towards Kai herself, and she tilts her head forward.

"Our condolences," she offers, solemnly, and she steps towards Kai to place a hand on his shoulder. "President Rikan was much respected, and I am quite sorry."

"No one's heard from you in weeks," Iko says, in awe, eyes wide, practically sparkling. "To think you've been here, in Benoit farms! The CIA thinks you've been kidnapped! There's a reward for your whereabouts!"

Cinder is now more confused than ever, looking from Iko, to Winter, to Kai, who is stepping away from Winter with a melancholy expression.

"Thank you," he says, and Cinder pieces it together. Of course she's heard of President Rikan, but she'd never have thought much about his son, and if Winter is offering condolences, then that must mean...

"The President is- dead?" Cinder asks, uncertainty tinging her voice.

Kai nods, but he can't look her in the face. "My father is dead."

"Oh, I-" Cinder's words catch in her throat, and tears threaten her eyes. "I didn't-"

"You didn't know. It's okay." Kai still won't look at her, and Cinder feels like a complete asshole.

"Really? It was all over the news. How come you didn't hear about it? Oof!" Iko rambles on, but she's silenced when Winter not-so-subtly elbows her in the ribs. "Um, I mean, you were probably busy. People get busy all the time, you know, no big deal-"

"We look for Thorne, Selene," Winter interjects, attempting to cut off the sensitive subject matter of President Rikan, steering the conversation away, "As Jacin Clay has deemed him in danger."

Cinder blinks. "Who?"

"He's- Cress's friend?" Iko muses, tapping her lower lip mischievously, and her eyes seem to sparkle. " _But_ Dr. Darnel was telling me that they're basically dating, so-"

"I know Cress, but I don't know Jacin," Cinder says, slowly. "I haven't seen Thorne here at all today, but if he's here then he's probably with Scarlet in the house...check the kitchen, maybe?"

"Thank you, cousin." Winter presses a hand against Cinder's cheek, her palm cupping the curve of her chin, and she smiles brightly.

Everything is too confusing for Cinder to figure out. She can't quite understand nor put her finger on how Winter is related to her, on what Winter has come looking for Thorne for, and she watches Winter and Iko make their way to the back of the house, the squawk of a chicken the only sound that tears her out of her confusion.

It's significantly more awkward with Kai now that Cinder knows he's the president's son.

He's pretending that none if it's happened, apparently, as he is very focused on the weeds by the strawberry plants.

Cinder glances his way for a second before she, too, resumes her work, any moment they'd had gone.

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"I'll shoot." Scarlet's voice is firm, unwavering, and she doesn't pause at all, not even as red curls fall into her face. "Don't think I won't." Her tone is challenging, and it should be. Thorne knows better than anyone about how Scarlet keeps her promises, and he has a gunshot wound of his own as a testament to that.

"Look, buddy, don't get any closer," Thorne warns, and his fingers curl around the neglected cell phone in his pocket that he's failed to look at for the good part of an hour. "I'll call the cops." He won't, actually, considering the cops would love a crack at him, too, but if there's one thing Thorne is skilled at, it's lying. He's as convincing as ever, because the intruder shifts around in a manner that could arguably be considered nervous.

"I'm sorry." The foreign man doesn't make a move forward, smartly, as he eyes the gun, axe slack and unthreatening in his hands. "I only came to return this. I'm looking for Michelle Benoit."

"She's _dead_." Scarlet's voice grows darker, and she snarls at the mention of her grandmother, not bothering to look surprised that a stranger knows Michelle's name. "So you'd better have a good reason for looking for her."

"She made a promise to me, years ago." The man looks towards Thorne, and then back to Scarlet, and finally to the axe in his hold, his expression unreadable. "I'm going to set this down." He makes eye contact with Scarlet and calmly requests, "Don't shoot."

Thorne tilts his head towards Scarlet's and stage-whispers, "I think you should go for it while he's distracted."

Scarlet frowns, but doesn't look towards Thorne or otherwise acknowledge his suggestion. "Do it quickly," she barks, finally.

Relief washes over the man's face. He sets the axe down on the table, and raises both hands in the air so that he can be perceived as less threatening then his hulking frame suggests. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong."

"Breaking into someone's house, for one, should be your first indication that you did something wrong," Thorne replies, dryly, sarcasm coating every word. "Unless you think _locks_ don't serve a purpose."

Scarlet doesn't focus on the break in detail. She's still attempting to wrap her head around the fact that this stranger has walked into her home and claimed to have known her grandmother. "Who are you?"

"Is it possible that we can talk without the gun-"

"No," Scarlet interrupts, and her hands tighten around the weapon. "Who are you?"

He sighs. "My name is Wolf."

"Funny," Scarlet deadpans, without cracking a smile. "Who are you?"

"I don't go by my birth name anymore." Wolf is direct with his gaze. "My name is Wolf."

Thorne snickers. Scarlet shoots him a glare. Thorne clears his throat and becomes fascinated with the floor.

"You said my grandmère made you a promise. What was it?" Scarlet questions, and her voice almost threatens to crack.

Wolf raises one eyebrow. "Michelle Benoit was your grandmother."

"Yes," Scarlet snaps, "And she would have told me if she was indebted to anyone."

"I'm not so sure she would." Wolf crosses his arms, but he looks apologetic. "My father worked for Benoit farms, years ago, before he got into some trouble. Michelle made him a promise that she would shelter his children if the need arose."

"And you need _shelter_." Scarlet doesn't believe him. That much is obvious. "What kind of trouble? My grandmère _never_ associated with lawbreakers."

"Not me. My brother." Wolf's face softens. "My brother has become associated with dangerous people and I need him to escape. What my father was involved with was resolved long ago. It's his son that needs your help."

"Look," Scarlet speaks through gritted teeth, "I'd like to believe you. Really." There's a pause, and Scarlet doesn't seem sincere. "But if your brother is breaking the law, then I can't help him. I help the people who are unwittingly in hard situations, not the ones who seek them."

"Please," Wolf pleads, and he takes a step closer. "He could _die_."

"I'm sorry." Scarlet can't take that chance, or, so she tells herself, standing firm. "I can't help you."

The front door to the house bursts open with a bang as the hinges shriek tellingly and the wall is hit by the door with a loud thud.

"For fuck's sake," Thorne exclaims, "Why do we even _bother_ locking the door?"

Wolf turns around, too, to face their latest company, and Scarlet almost shoots the next person who walks through the kitchen and thanks her lucky stars that she doesn't, because it's Jacin, pointing a gun towards Wolf, too, as Cress timidly follows, her face noticeably pale, hands gripping her sides with intensity.

"Jesus _Christ_ ," Scarlet gripes, and her gun lowers now that Jacin has his up. "Haven't you heard of _knocking_ , Clay?"

"Haven't you heard of _communication_ , firework?" Scowling, Jacin studies Wolf's physique with an up-and-down glare and then looks towards Scarlet and Thorne, looking disgusted. "I've only been trying to get in touch with the both of you for almost half an hour."

Scarlet groans, and she angrily shoves hair away from her forehead. "My phone's dead."

"Mine's silent," Thorne offers up, taking out his phone. "God, Jacin, if I knew that you _cared_ about me this much-"

"Shut up." Jacin barks, and he jerks his chin towards Wolf. "Who is this?"

"Someone who's just leaving," Scarlet responds, and she makes eye contact with Wolf. Even though her gun is lowered, it's in her hand, and he can see it.

Wolf's jaw tightens. "I won't impose on you any longer, then."

"Good. Don't come back here, and don't alert any authorities," Scarlet instructs.

"Wait. Who is this, and why are they here?" Jacin reiterates, and he's frowning. "This farm is off the radar. No one should be able to find it unless otherwise referred."

"I grew up around here." Wolf looks towards Scarlet, and he seems to understand that he shouldn't repeat his previous statements. "Michelle Benoit knew my father."

Jacin doesn't relax, because he never seems to relax, but he does seem satisfied with the answer, though not quite trusting. "Scarlet?"

"So he claims." Scarlet hoists her gun up again. "Do you need an escort out?"

"No. I know the way." Wolf takes a few steps away, almost out of the kitchen door, but he doesn't make it that far before another intrusion occurs, an intrusion that takes place in the back door and moves itself right into the kitchen, too, with another slam of the sliding door and a curse as someone tangles themselves in the mosquito net and Scarlet bristles and her gun points there before it slackens...

There's an angel in her home.

"Winter?" Cress confusedly asks, piping up from her position just in the kitchen doorway, and then, "...Iko?"

Winter is a stunning beauty with dark curls and bright eyes, and Scarlet is sure that her jaw is hanging open, so she barely even notices that behind Winter a girl with blue hair waves an excited arm in the air. But Winter gives Scarlet a lovely, genuine smile as she scans the room before she faces Thorne, and she lights up, clasping her hands together over her chest. "You're safe!"

"I was never in danger-" Thorne's words die on his lips as he realizes what she means. "Oh, shit. You guys thought that because I wasn't checking my phone that I was in some sort of danger?"

"What else?" Jacin replies, exasperated, and he looks towards the girls that have just entered. "What are you doing here? Where's Dr. Darnel?"

"Did my dad let you _leave_?" Cress interjects, and she looks panicky. "He had direct orders not to let the two of you out of his sight!"

"Who are these people?" Scarlet demands to know, yelling above the ruckus.

"Code sixes," Thorne answers, splaying out his arms. "Everyone, shut the fuck up, because I'm _not in danger,_ and this was entirely unnecessary."

Winter, who's been beaming at the sight of Thorne, now turns to Wolf, who's staring at her in bewilderment. The smile slips off Winter's face. "Wolf?"

"You know this guy?" Thorne asks, incredulous, jerking a thumb towards Wolf.

"Winter." Wolf tilts his head towards her before he straightens. "I have to leave."

"Has my stepmother sent you?" Trembling, Winter takes a step backward. Iko grabs onto Winter's hand to stop her from collapsing.

Wolf lowers his gaze. "No. But if you're here, then I assume she'll send my brother to look for you soon enough."

Winter bites her lower lip, and her hazel eyes fill with tears. "What shall you report to her?"

Wolf glances at Scarlet, who has her gun up again, and then to Jacin, who's gun hasn't left yet. "I have not seen you."

Winter exhales, shakily, and grips Iko's fingers in return. "Thank you."

"Ran won't rest until he finds you, you realize." Wolf takes a step towards Winter, but he directs his next statement to Scarlet. "For Winter's sake, you'd better hope that you can relocate her quickly and efficiently, just as your grandmère would have done."

Scarlet can't help that she's gaping. "You know one of my charges?"

"Yes. And I understand the danger she's in." Wolf looks at the people in the room. Winter is being held by Iko, Cress hides behind Jacin, Thorne stays glued to Scarlet's side. "Stay safe, Winter."

Scarlet almost feels sorry about refusing him. "Wait. I didn't-"

"I understand why you can't help me." Wolf's eyes are so vibrant, Scarlet almost can't look straight into them. " _Nous protégeons chacun notre propre_."

He's gone before Scarlet can realize that he's speaking in her native tongue.

"What'd he say?" Thorne questions, as they hear the front door slamming, and the room is enveloped in silence.

"We each protect our own," Winter answers before Scarlet can, and gives the redhead another smile. "Such pretty French. I have known Wolf for years. It is he that helped me escape, at great cost for his own life, and directed me to Dr. Darnel."

"What?" Jacin proclaims, looking surprised, maybe at the "escape" part and what it entails but focus more on the last part of her sentence. "How does he know Dr. Darnel's address?"

"Alas, I don't know the answer to your question." Winter cocks her head curiously. "How did he find me here?"

"Actually," Thorne says, and he sneaks a glance towards Scarlet, "He wasn't looking for you."

Winter hums a few bars before she says, "His younger brother is employed by my stepmother. Wolf visits him all the time. He's been attempting to cut his family ties with mine. I do hope he'll be successful." To Scarlet, she clarifies, "My stepmother is not a very nice woman, you see."

" _Where_ is Dr. Darnel?" Jacin interrupts, the scowl returned to his face.

"He's- er- sleeping," Iko fills in, but it's a lie, and she starts to look guilty. "He'll be fine, don't worry."

"Why _wouldn't_ he be fine?" And Cress looks worried now, too, stepping forward into the kitchen.

"Don't worry," Iko repeats, holding her palms in the air, "He's just- um, he's just-"

"I believe 'comatose' could describe the state we left him in," Winter supplies.

" _What_?"

"Jesus, sweetheart," Thorne smacks his own forehead and exhales loudly. "Please tell me you didn't do what I think you did."

Iko fiddles with a braid. "I might have?"

"Somebody needs to fill me in on all this," Scarlet announces, voice rising, "Because I don't know what the _hell_ you're all talking about."


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's another chapter for you lovely ppl :) I was actually inspired to write this during a trip to Vegas, so its ambience makes an appearance. Thanks for the kind reviews!**

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"You're a fucking _idiot_ , Carswell."

"Okay, that's harsh, even for you."

Jacin glares at Thorne for a full half-minute and then he shifts forward, away from the counter he's been leaning against, arms crossed, hair stubbornly stuck in his face but he also refuses to brush it away just yet. "What were you _thinking_?"

"Nothing, apparently, because I don't _think_ \- Jesus Christ, Jacin, what do you want me to do? Stay glued to my phone?" Irritated, Thorne runs a hand through his hair, which is gelled thoroughly, closing his eyes, and exhales a huffy breath. "So I didn't check my phone and you got worried. If this is the way you say that you care about me, Jacin, it's not exactly showing."

"I _don't_ care about you," Jacin stresses, "If it wasn't for-" He shuts his mouth abruptly before he can say Cress's name and squints at Thorne, completely forgoing the end of his sentence. "Check your phone more often."

"Yeah, yeah, I've got it, _mom_. Is this lecture over? I've got things to do." Thorne is hostile, too, and he looks jumpier than usual. Thorne is overactive, so Jacin has noticed, but he looks worse for wear. As if he hasn't been sleeping, or that he's been abusing some sort of substance. Thorne isn't disheveled in appearance, but when Thorne is nervous, it generally means he's doing _something_ wrong, and Jacin wants to hate him for it.

Jacin scowls. "Are you doing drugs again?"

Thorne gives him an indecorous look before replying, "Fuck no," his tone harsh and angry, his volume raising obscenely loud as he gets riled, and then he's pacing the kitchen floor, his brown leather designer shoes strikingly shiny against the unwashed tile. "Can you just- fucking- _stop_? I haven't done drugs in years. I'm not going to do drugs."

Jacin doesn't show any remorse, his face as stoic as ever. "I don't want you going back to that. I don't want you to be that person again."

"And I won't." Thorne stubbornly glares back at Jacin with just as much conviction, growing angrier by the second, and then he smacks the countertop with a fist, jostling the metal cutlery resting in their drying racks. "Is that all you need?"

"No." Jacin's scowl returns tenfold. "We need to talk about Dr. Darnel."

Thorne groans, rubbing at his reddening knuckles. "Oh, _that_. Where is Iko?"

"In the shelter already. She feels terrible." Jacin adds that last sentence with the suggestion that Thorne is to blame somehow.

"I'm sorry. It slipped my mind. I should've... I take responsibility for this. Iko is- _skilled_ in pharmaceutical medicines," Thorne says, and he's back to pacing, though his anger has mellowed to guilt. "It's one of her coping mechanisms. You can't blame her for that."

Jacin's face doesn't seem to move, but is also somehow softens. "I don't. Iko isn't to blame. But she did drug Dr. Darnel, and- she trusts you. You've got to talk to her about this. Help her feel better."

"What about Cress?"

"What about her?" Jacin asks, feeling the possessiveness in himself rising, hostility creeping into his words.

"How is she?" Thorne questions, and he looks worried. Jacin almost feels sorry for always calling him an asshole behind his back ( _almost_ , because he stands firm in his conviction that Thorne, is, in fact, an asshole), but he instead simmers his anger to allow Thorne's concern. Jacin knows it's silly to expect Cress's well-being to affect only himself and her father, but he doesn't trust Thorne. Not yet.

"Dr. Darnel is going to be fine. The doses weren't lethal," Jacin says, "And Cress is looking after him. She's- she'll be okay."

"Maybe I should go visit her, see how she's holding up," Thorne suggests, and he reaches for his motorcycle helmet.

"I said she'll be okay." Jacin's frown returns. "You need to stay here. Scarlet might need you."

"I'm not Scarlet's personal errand boy." Irritated, Thorne keeps the motorcycle helmet in his hands anyway. "She knows I have places to go to."

"Oh, really?" Jacin challenges, "Because she told me that she expects you to stick around the farm for a while. Something about laying low."

"That's none of your goddamn business, Clay-"

"Which is why I didn't press for details, but if you're getting into trouble again, I'm not going to save your ass. Got it?" Jacin barks.

"That was _one_ time, and you hold it over me every chance you get," Thorne huffs, but obviously relaxes knowing that Jacin doesn't have the specifics on his latest escapade.

Jacin doesn't bat an eye. "I mean it. You're on your own. I'm not going to be part of this anymore."

"Right, right- I forgot you're going to school now. _Dr_. Clay has a nice ring to it." Thorne's shit-eating grin is back, and he's directing it to Jacin. "How's it feel?"

"How does _what_ feel?"

"How's it feel knowing you're a sellout to institutionalized education?"

"Hilarious. I can't believe you're not a comedian," Jacin says, flatly, and grabs the motorcycle helmet from Thorne's hands, a playful action in theory, but executed by Jacin radiates stern seriousness. His next sentence is somber. "If you're in trouble, Thorne-"

Thorne snatches it back. "I'm not saying. You can get all high-and-uppity about _leaving_ , but I can't. There's no _leaving_. Not for me. I'm in this 'til I'm dead, and trust me, that might come sooner than you think. So can you just cut me some slack, Clay? For once. That'd be nice."

"I am not 'high-and-uppity' whatever _that_ means-"

"Having a lovers' quarrel, are we?"

Thorne and Jacin both turn to face the intrusion of Scarlet, whose arms are filled with firewood, and she kicks a chair out of her way as the leg of it scratches against the floor with a screech. They spring a few paces apart despite never being that close to each other in the first place, as Jacin scowls again and Thorne grins.

"It's a friendly conversation, sweetheart. Jacin was telling me _all_ about his post-graduation plans. He's moving to Guatemala and starting a clinic there, and he wants us to send him away with lots of fireworks. Especially those really loud illegal ones, those are his favorites-"

"I'm leaving." Jacin cuts Thorne off with that short sentence, and he addresses Scarlet next. "Make sure Iko is fine. I need to go see how Dr. Darnel is recuperating."

"And Cress, too, I'll bet," Scarlet says, with a smirk playing on her lips. Jacin narrows his eyes and exits the kitchen without a further goodbye, slamming the door closed behind him.

"A real ray of sunshine, isn't he?" Thorne sits down on the table, and watches as Scarlet opens her stove door to feed the flames cut firewood, fanning away embers and listening to the crackling noises emitted.

"When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"Tell him about _Sybil_." Scarlet closes the stove and watches before rummaging in her cupboards to find her cast iron pot. "He should know."

"It's none of his business. Besides, he stopped working for Sybil years ago. And- he's already trying to leave."

"I'm not crazy about losing one of my doctors, Thorne, but if he wants a shot at a normal life he deserves one." Scarlet turns the tap on, and the water spilling into the pot seems amplified by its hollow walls. "He should just know what she's doing, at least. You know his dad still works for her. He should be informed."

"And then his shot at a normal life goes out the window," Thorne points out, "Because if he's... _aware_ , then he's as good as dead. You know that."

Scarlet quiets, turns off the tap, and lugs the pot to the stovetop, the water inside sloshing precariously. "Alright. But Thorne, you're-"

"Oh, I already know that _I'm_ as good as dead. I'm the one who pissed her off. But don't mix Jacin up in Sybil's mess. Keeping him in the dark is the only way he can graduate medical school and get a job, Scarlet."

"You think I don't know that?" Impatiently, Scarlet monitors the water in her pot, before she gives up on waiting to watch it boil and busies herself in the pantry, pulling open the sticky wooden door to rummage amongst her pre-packed foods. "I won't tell him anything." She settles on a package of lentils and rips the bag open before picking up a bowl to wash them in. "And I'll make sure that Cress doesn't either. You know they're close."

Thorne rubs at his chin, feeling the scratch of stubbly hairs growing. "Would you happen to have any razors around this joint?"

Scarlet scoffs, pouring her washed lentils into the pot. "Yes, right next to all the hair gel you're going to need, because _clearly_ those are necessities when you're hiding from the authorities."

"I could do without the sarcasm, sweetheart." Thorne tugs the motorcycle helmet over his fluffed hair and fastens it over his chin. "I'll go stock up on the essentials and be back before dinner."

"Oh no you don't!" Scarlet swats at Thorne's back with the handle of her wooden spoon, frowning. "You're not going anywhere, not with a target on your back, and especially not when it's getting dark."

"Relax, won't you? This isn't the first time I've got people after me, and it won't be the last. Trust me. Now, is there anything you need?"

Scarlet studies Thorne for a while, his words muffled by the helmet but still loud in the stillness of the kitchen. "Absolutely not. You're not risking your skin for a razor."

"Which is why I asked you if you needed anything, Scarlet, honestly-"

"No," Scarlet repeats, "You're too well-known around these parts. Some bounty hunter could spot you and take you to Sybil and you can't take that chance."

Thorne huffs, and his face is obstructed by the darkness of the tinted motorcycle helmet, or else Scarlet would be able to see his facial expressions. "I won't be long. Besides, I've got a job to do anyway."

Scarlet sighs. She knows Thorne's conman side hustle is how he makes money, but she doesn't agree with it, and she doesn't know the specifics of it either, as he claims it'll keep her safe while Scarlet argues that she's never _safe_ taking in fugitives. Besides faking deaths, Thorne does anything and everything he can that's not allowed by law and slips into the grey areas of what is morally wrong and right. Scarlet doesn't want to know _what_ his latest client has demanded of him, and knows Thorne won't say anyway, because even as he pretends that his partakes in immoral debauchery Scarlet has it on good authority that he'd never do anything to hurt anyone innocent.

"I want you back in one piece," she settles for saying, "And I want you to be careful. Sybil has eyes everywhere."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. Give me a kiss for good luck?"

"Get out of here," Scarlet replies, shoving Thorne away good-naturedly, and she's smiling when he leaves, though she knows that she won't be for long.

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The room Cinder has been given is barren. The walls, a thin metallic sheet of malleable aluminum rusted red with age, encloses her in a small space barely six feet in diameter and, if she were to guess, possibly boasts the length of a few yards. The cot she's sitting on is stiff, the starchy white material spread thin, and the threadbare blanket Cress had scrounged up is probably just cotton cloth, as it provides no comfort at all. Still, Cinder keeps it on her lap and hugs it closer, her prosthetic hand reflexively curling just as her flesh one does, and they're free of gloves for once. She'd taken them off after Scarlet had relieved her of the rake with a well-meaning pat on the shoulder. She hardly notices this, because she doesn't usually wear the gloves when she's alone, but she's not alone anymore as the door opens, and she scrambles to grasp onto her gloves but doesn't get the chance to take them in her hands before she's enveloped in a tight hug, and Cinder stiffens, unsure what to do in response, even as Winter's curls tickle her face and her nostrils inhale a steady stream of flowery scent.

"I apologize, Selene." Winter solemnly widens her hazel-colored eyes, sitting next to Cinder on the cot, tucking her legs up to her side, and she reaches a hand out to place over Cinder's prosthetic one. Even as her palm touches metal, Winter doesn't flinch or even notice, apparently, and she gets closer to her cousin. "You must have many questions."

Cinder nods, slowly, because she does, the first of all being how Winter knows her, facing Winter with an open mind, because Cinder's come to realize that anything she used to know is not trustworthy. "You said you're my cousin."

"Yes. Your aunt is my stepmother." Winter smiles at her, and Cinder wonders if she ever stops looking so friendly and approachable and thinks it must be a bother, smiling all the time. "My father remarried Levana Blackburn when I was young." Cocking her head, she states, "You and I played together. Your mother was around Levana often."

Cinder's heart skips a beat, and she feels a bit dizzy. "My- mother?"

"Channary was her name. She was beautiful," Winter muses, and frowns. "Not as beautiful as you. Do you keep her in your memory, Selene?"

Cinder shakes her head. "I'm sorry." She pauses, embarrassed. "I can't remember much. I was adopted when I was little, I- my adoptive mother told me that my parents were dead. She didn't tell me I had any other family."

"The last time I saw you was at her funeral." Winter grips Cinder's metal fingers in her own, tightly, and though Cinder can't feel the pressure she imagines the phantom effects of it. "I believe Levana gave up her custodial rights to you, or else you would have been entrusted to her care."

Cinder can believe that. She imagines it make sense. Any questions about her birth family directed to her adoptive mother, inquisitive as all children's questions are, were coldly eluded, with her adoptive mother simply telling Cinder that no one wanted her, least of all herself. Cinder doesn't know anything about Levana, or her mother, but she is curious now. "You've grown up with my aunt."

"Yes. She is the only maternal figure I've known." Winter's smile is dimmed significantly, and she looks- almost- fearful. "She is related to me by marriage, but she is related to you by blood. Forgive me, Selene, as I do not wish to speak ill of your family, but Levana Hayle-Blackburn is not a kind woman."

Cinder feels a tinge of- disappointment, admittedly, with those words. Cinder had always assumed that her family had been dead, and so, if she ever thought of them she conjured images of a loving, caring, emotionally supportive family, not someone who could cause fear in her own stepdaughter. And even though she's never seen Levana Hayle-Blackburn, she's certain that she never wants to see her. Cinder notices that Winter's right hand is absentmindedly rubbing at three deep scars embedded in her cheek, ascending from her eye like teardrops.

"What did she do?" Cinder asks, voice thick, focusing on the scars.

Winter's eyes, hooded with thought, fly open in alarm. "I don't wish to burden you with Levana's actions."

"She's my aunt. I need to know what I can do. I need to know- her." Cinder keeps looking at Winter's wounds, and feels uncomfortable, expecting to hear that Levana is somehow related to them. "You're a code six, aren't you." It's not a question, but rather a realization.

Winter lowers her gaze. "Yes," she admits. "I ran away. From Levana."

Cinder inhales sharply. "Then-"

"I've been her burden since my father's death," Winter explains, voice wavering, before she strengthens it, tone steadily rising and growing stronger. She lifts her head high, squares her shoulders, and continues. "Levana has treated me with resentment since then, and nothing I've done has ever changed her perception of me, but in recent events, I have done something that she claims is unforgivable."

"But- what could be so unforgivable?"

Winter's lips flatten into a line. "I refused to marry a horrible man, and she has punished me for it." Her fingers touch her scars again. "She will not rest until I'm found. I'm a liability to her crime empire."

Cinder's words catch in her throat. "She- she cut your face because you wouldn't marry someone?"

Winter's eyes look glazed over. "Aimery Park," she states, firmly, "Is _not_ a nice man."

Cinder doesn't know who this Aimery Park is, but anger rises in her chest anyway, upset at the idea that anyone could hurt Winter. Her prosthetic fingers curl themselves into a fist before she catches herself and she unfurls them again, attempting to change the topic back to her aunt. "You don't have to tell me about her anymore. I don't- I don't know if I _want_ to learn about her."

"I wish that I could be of more help." The last thing Cinder wants is for Winter to feel inadequate, but Winter looks so forlorn that Cinder is sure that Winter is feeling just that. "I only want to let you know that you cannot trust her."

"It's alright." Cinder chews on her lower lip for a while. "I believe you."

Winter's eyes light up. "You do?" she asks, relieved, and she throws her arms around Cinder again. "Thank goodness!" Quickly, she presses a kiss to Cinder's ear before she pulls away, and her hands fold themselves into her lap. She's beaming, brilliantly, and Cinder is reassured- of what she's come to realize- as Winter's sunshiny personality. "I admit that most people do not believe me."

That sentence sets off a warning signal, and for the second time Cinder grows upset. She hardly knows Winter, but she already knows that as cousins- even though it is solely through a martial bond- that she wants to protect her for some reason. "Why wouldn't people believe you? Have you tried to- expose- Levana before?"

"I was never allowed to share _any_ incriminating information against Levana," Winter responds, "but she and her associates make a habit of discrediting my words. No one believes me, really."

"Oh." Cinder hesitates. "Is there a- a reason for that, or?"

Winter tilts her head. "Not that I can think of, particularly. It's odd, isn't it?"

"I- guess?"

"Well, this must be a lot to take in," Winter says, and her smile grows docile, comforting, as she grabs onto both of Cinder's hands again. "I won't keep you much longer. In fact, I've moved in just next door to you, and I'll stay here until Cress can relocate me."

Relocation. Right. Cinder had almost forgotten about that minor detail. "The relocation process. How long will that take?"

"Cress explained it to me, but she said that she doesn't know for sure. It's extensive- she must forge death certificates, create birth records, other details that escape me, really," Winter says, "Everything that she must have told you already...and she does not have a time frame, but I do know that she attempts to work as quickly as she can."

"That's- good," Cinder manages, at least, but her mind reels, uneasy at the idea of being in a foreign place, by herself, with a new identity, and she almost doesn't want it. "At least I'll be gone, and we can all be safe."

Winter's smile turns sad. "If only we could be, my dearest Selene."

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The air is thick and hazy with cigarette smoke, the flashing animated screens of coin slots blinking back at him with the sound effects of dings and jostling coins, as poker and blackjack tables are filled to the brim with people slapping down dollar bills and raking in poker chips, the conversational noise the loudest of everything the bottom floor of the casino has to offer. Thorne surveys the room quietly, motorcycle helmet still on, regretting paying ten fucking dollars for valet parking because _that_ was a waste, but he knows he can't keep it on for long. He knows that he'll have to take it off eventually and see the Friday night crowd that graces the glitzy establishment and watches as women dressed in bikinis saunter around the slot machines hoisting silver trays with martinis and margaritas, offering them to patrons, and Thorne hisses a curse under his breath when he catches sight of an old acquaintance- a man Thorne may or may not have wronged- and so he rapidly walks away from the section as people gamble, instead keeping his sights set on the bar, where he's sure that his newest client must be meeting him, or so his client has said he would be.

Thorne finally takes off the helmet to address the bartender, a lovely woman who looks at him with obvious interest and bats her eyes a little too interestedly. "What can I get you, handsome?"

She's flirting, which Thorne would appreciate normally, except he's not into her, which serves as a major problem. "Get me a gin and tonic, sweetheart, and keep them coming."

She lingers by his side a while longer but Thorne is checking his phone, not bothering to look up in her direction, so she finally leaves to actually do her job and Thorne is not the only one seated at the bar but the only other people are an old, balding man glued to the football game and there's a woman who he places in her mid-thirties rapidly talking in her phone, dressed in a sharp suit and stirring her whiskey with a minuscule straw. None of them meet the description his client had provided Thorne with, and so he waits, and as crowded and noisy as this specific casino is, it makes for a well enough place to meet. Not clandestine, so therefore not free from prying eyes, as Thorne knows well enough that Sybil has people everywhere, but the noise could mean cover. Which, cover is good. Thorne's not trying to get compromised and he's certainly _not_ trying to end up dead.

The seat next to him gets occupied just as the bartender returns with his gin and tonic. "I'm Jina," she says as a means of introduction, and leans across the bar with a devilish glint in her eye. Thorne ignores that she's pushing her cleavage in his face and takes a long drink from the glass provided.

"Thanks. You're a doll." Thorne turns away from Jina the bartender to see who, exactly, has placed themselves on the stool next to his and finds himself looking at a man, in his twenties if Thorne had to guess, with dark hair, tan skin, and a nervous expression.

This had to be the client.

Jina, who can tell she's being stiffed, frowns and turns to the newcomer. "What can I get you?"

"Just a water." Oh, he's definitely nervous. Thorne watches with amusement as the man grabs at his collar and tugs at it, the buttoned shirt far too restrictive. "Actually, get me a beer."

"Coming right up." Jina also takes Thorne's emptied glass and stays in his line of vision, perhaps in a last-ditch effort to get his attention, not that it works. Thorne looks towards the man and shakes his head, a grin starting to spread across his face.

"You must be Liam Kinney."

Liam starts in surprise, looking over Thorne's appearance- likely taking in his helmet hair, the dark leather jacket, and the faded denim jeans that cling to his calves in all the right places. "Kinney. I go by Kinney. And you must be-"

"Let's not say my name out loud, actually," Thorne interrupts. "I've heard that you need my services, but you should know that I expect payment up front before I agree."

"Of course." Kinney reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wadded envelope, rumpled from being in his pants, likely, and slips it into Thorne's hand under the countertop. "In cash, like you requested." He's smart enough not to say the number out loud, at least, and Thorne rifles through the folded bills, mentally counting it all in his head. Thorne has dealt with counterfeit currency before, and this isn't it. Satisfied, Thorne tucks it into an inside pocket in his jacket.

"I need specifics. Details, don't leave anything out, and if you need to write it on paper, I'm sure I can get a pen somewhere." Thorne reaches for the second gin and tonic Jina has left out- telling himself it'll be the last one, he's not looking to get drunk off overpriced drinks and especially not when he has to drive himself home.

Kinney glances around. Jina is busying herself with some new customers that have seated themselves at the bar, the old man is falling asleep, and the fast-talking businesswoman has left by that point. "I need your help. I want to-" he hesitates, likely afraid to keep saying it out loud. Thorne gets the hint and produces a pen from his jacket, miraculously, and the tiny notepad he carries around for emergencies such as this. He pushes them towards Kinney, and Kinney chugs his beer before he grabs the pen and scratches a sentence out onto the paper, fingers quivering, perhaps still with nervousness. Thorne, who's taking another drink, almost spits it out as he reads the sentence.

 _I want to arrest Sybil Mira._

"Shit," Thorne curses, and he lowers his voice to a hiss, "You're a fucking _cop_?"

"I'm not here to get you into trouble," Kinney responds, but he does reach into his back pocket and produces a wallet, flashing the telltale gold of a police badge. "I can't trust law enforcement. She-" the 'she' he speaks of is Sybil Mira, and the implication hangs heavy in his words- "She gets around everything. She covers up her tracks, and she uses her influence to do it. I want her off the force, but I can't do it without evidence."

"And you want me to dig up her dirty laundry. That's what I'm here for, isn't it?" Thorne, awkwardly balancing his helmet on his knee, tries not to fall off the stool with this implication. He's sure Scarlet would be thrilled if she knew that he plans on taking on a job that means getting close to the woman he's on the run from.

Kinney nods. Thorne is surprised to see how genuinely _desperate_ he seems, but he figures that if a police officer is coming to seek help from a conman that it means two things: one, that Thorne is well-known enough that fucking _cops_ can get in contact with him, which he needs to change; and two, that he's utterly fucked if a government employee can't take down a criminal mastermind. But, then again, the criminal mastermind is also head of the police force, and Sybil Mira has been known to be in cohorts with Levana Hayle-Blackburn, and as always, _that_ means Sybil has been cleaning up Levana's dirty work for years. If such incriminating evidence against Sybil exists, and how she's used her connections to cover up any criminal activity, Thorne knows he won't be able to find it all on his own. He needs someone on the inside, but a lowly police officer that Sybil likely doesn't trust can't possibly count as one. Not only that, he needs a more tactical approach to the situation. Nothing outward. Something from the inside, some sort of technological- Thorne snaps his fingers. _Of course._

"I have some people to help me out with this," Thorne finally says, after pondering this for a while. "I need to know your relationship to- _her_."

"She's my commanding officer," Kinney responds, and his fingers are tightly clenched around the beer. "I was in the precinct once, when I saw her assault a person in questioning. That raised red flags, but I didn't report it. I thought video footage would prove it, but when I checked the body cam footage of Sybil, the incident was gone. Somehow, someone had erased it." He drinks the last of his beer and winces- Thorne's already pegged him as a lightweight- and he sets it back down on the countertop. "I asked around. Casually. Asking if body cams could be malfunctioning, saying that I noticed some time stamped footage gone from the database, and she told me to stop questioning her actions. I've been hearing rumors that she's been doing far worse things, but none of them have been proven. So I heard about you, and they say you can do anything for a price. I figured it was worth a shot."

"You've come to the right man." Smugly, Thorne pushes away his empty glass and grips his motorcycle helmet in his hands, ready to get going. "I can do this for you, but you're going to have to give me time. It won't be easy." He sizes Kinney up- Kinney is broad, sure, as most police officers are, but something about his desperation makes him trustworthy. As someone who deals with plenty of _un_ trustworthy people, Thorne can tell Kinney isn't one of them, and Thorne prides himself on being a good judge of character. "Don't tell anyone about this conversation."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Quickly, Kinney stands, and puts down money to cover his beer, but Jina is still preoccupied with other patrons. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me 'til it's done," Thorne says, and waves him away, watching as Kinney disappears into the hubbub of tipsy gamblers.

"Going for another round, handsome?" And Jina is back, a predatory smile on her face, taking Thorne's empty glass.

"No thanks. I've got to get going, dollface, but if I'm ever back in the area I'll be sure to pay you a visit." Thorne gives her a wink, which would ordinarily do wonders, but Jina's smile only grows larger and more dangerous, were it possible. He really, _really_ doesn't like the greedy look in her eyes.

"What a shame," she says, sweetly, poison tinging every word. "And here I thought you'd stick around. I've heard that you're worth half a million dollars to a _very_ interesting woman."

 _Fuck_. "Sorry, sweetheart, but that's not going to happen," Thorne drawls, masking his startled realization that Jina has recognized him and knows who he is with a smirk. "If I were you, I'd look to make my cash elsewhere. I've heard that poker's pretty rewarding."

Jina bats her eyelashes. "I've already placed in a hot tip that _the_ Carswell Thorne is in this casino at this very moment." Sarcastically, echoing his earlier words, she coos, " _If I were you,_ I'd make it easier."

"Well," Thorne smiles back, laying down a few bills on the bar and making sure that it's high above his actual price total (he does feel bad that he's thwarting a pretty woman's get-rich-quick scheme, after all, she's insanely clever and he'll give her that), "I've never made anything _easy_ for anyone. Not about to start now. Sorry I've got to go, I'm in a bit of a rush."

Thorne is no amateur, and he turns away from the bar, taking his time, strolling at a leisurely pace. He doesn't run. He mingles. He blends. He loiters by a blackjack table- takes a crack at some penny slots- all the while moving to the exit, but not noticeably so, until he's out of the way of the bar before his steps turn brisk and he takes the stairs to the parking garage. He only hopes the valet's not tainted, not with Sybil Mira's endless connections, as he escapes into the night, his latest client the only thing on his mind, and how he can accomplish the demise of Sybil Mira's professional reputation at the soonest possible moment.

But he'll need some help.


	5. Chapter 5

**Well it's been...weeks...but I do have some excuses...one being that season 2 of Voltron came out and the second that classes for the spring semester started up again. So. I haven't been writing at all and just wrote like at least half of it today, in one sitting (which is why it sorta sucks lmao)- but there's some Cresswell interaction! And next chapter will be heavy on the Kaider, plus, maybe I might sprinkle in some Jacinter :)**

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 _"C'mon, try it," Peony goads, straightening the slipping messenger bag strap over her thin shoulder as it threatens to fall, the patent navy strap uneasy in her grip as she attempts to balance both her bag and hold onto her ice cream cone while simultaneously teetering on the cement sidewalk ridge, her Mary Janes rather close to the sewers crammed full of decaying leaves and sludge._

 _Cinder, who's been amusedly watching her younger sister's constant little game of walking on the ridges of things- on the brick walls encasing gardens, on the edges of sidewalks, on drainage grates- finally indulges Peony and takes a lick of the ice cream cone in her hand when it's offered. Of course, she doesn't grab the sugar cone- her greasy hands are slathered with motor oil she couldn't wash off back at the auto shop- but her tongue tastes the cold treat nonetheless. "What flavor is this?"_

 _Satisfied, Peony takes her cone back and hops along next to Cinder for once, at a slightly normal pace rather than the excruciatingly slow path they usually take home. "Matcha green tea."_

 _Cinder's not a tea person, but it's pretty good for an ice cream flavor- she's not a person who likes ice cream all that much, either. "Adri's going to be mad, you know."_

 _"Mom won't care," Peony claims, but she does look a bit unsure. "We didn't take that long, did we?"_

 _"You sampled eight different ice cream flavors before we left the store," Cinder counters, but she's grinning. "Adri hates it when you get home after dark."_

 _"She can wait a bit," Peony decides, and she beams as she faces her adoptive sister. "Besides, it's not_ that _late."_

 _The sun is barely setting, the sky a beautiful purple-orange, the moon shape visibly rising higher, hidden by the slightest of clouds, but those clouds are tinted grey. Cinder worries that it'll rain, so she walks a bit quicker. Peony skips to keep up, her bag slipping off her shoulder again._

 _"How's school going?"_

 _"Cinder," Peony whines, twirling a strand of hair around a finger, "That's the lamest question ever."_

 _"Okay, then, since I care about your education- have you started looking at colleges?"_

 _Peony gives her sister an elbow to the ribs. "I'm only a sophomore. I don't need to look at colleges."_

 _"You should," Cinder refutes, but she smiles. "It's a good idea to start early."_

 _Peony is quiet for a minute or two and her voice is small when she states, "You didn't finish college." Boldly, she looks Cinder in the eyes as she states, "Maybe_ I _won't go to college."_

 _Cinder's smile slips off her face. "That's different. I have my job- you want a career, don't you?"_

 _Peony's pretty face morphs into a scowl, and her footsteps slow to become less peppy. "It's_ unfair."

 _"It's okay," Cinder says, sure that she's thinking of Adri's refusal to pay for Cinder's higher education that led to Cinder working part-time in order to pay for classes and ultimately dropping out as it became too much to juggle- Cinder had made the decision to work at the auto shop full-time and contributed to Adri's house bills, as she still hadn't saved up enough to move out. "I'm good at what I do. I'm lucky."_

 _Peony doesn't seem to believe her and looks around to change the subject. "Hey, let's take a shortcut," she decides, and points towards an alley just behind the shopping center they've passed. "We can get home quicker."_

 _"I don't know," Cinder skeptically answers, and eyes the alley- which is dark, unlit, and smells like sewage- as Peony stops moving. "It's dirty."_

 _"C'mon, Cinder," Peony says, and she grips onto her sister's hand, giving her a tug. "It'll be fun!"_

 _"Fun- okay," Cinder replies, and she laughs at Peony's energetic and contagious excitement- laughing, laughing, laughing- until the laughter dies._

 _Peony's scream is what she remembers next, and if it wasn't so dark, Cinder would remember the tears streaming down her face, but she_ can _hear the desperation spouting from her vocal cords and ripping into the otherwise groggy silence._

 _"CINDER!"_

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Cress smooths the thinning strands of silver hair away from her father's forehead, curled up by his side, the television in the room droning quietly, playing technicolor cartoons she isn't paying attention to, the indiscernible dialogue buzzing around her ears and she feels like it could lull her to sleep, and she grips onto the quilt thrown over her father's dozing figure just a bit tighter. From the corner of her eye, on the coffee table, she can see the antacids and water Jacin left, but she knows that he must be upstairs in the guest room, sound asleep, as he spent the day attending to Dr. Darnel. In retrospect, Cress can see how Dr. Darnel mistakes Jacin's doting as romantic interest when he does things like convince Cress to stay hydrated and pry her away from her computer when she spends too much time hunched over it.

"Don't worry yourself so much, Crescent." Her dad says it softly, groggy with sleep, and he can probably tell that Cress hasn't left his side in hours, and his eyes crack open wearily. "What time is it?"

"Eleven o' clock. Do you want to eat something?" Cress checks her phone once but then drops it onto the couch again, directing every bit of over eager energy towards her father's wellbeing.

"I'm fine, Crescent. Did you eat?" Dr. Darnel struggles to sit up straight, and Cress presses a hand against his collarbone to stop him from moving upward.

"Yes, dad, Jacin brought lentil soup from Scarlet's. I can heat some up for you, if you want." Cress makes to stand, but Dr. Darnel shakes his head, his clammy hand moving to clamp over his daughter's with the little energy he can muster.

"No, I'm not hungry, Crescent. Why don't you go to bed? It's late."

"I'm not leaving you on the couch." Cress gets up to turn off the television, and silence settles over the living room. She's barefoot again, so the cold tile floor comes as a shock and she involuntarily gives a little jump. Her father chuckles as he shifts his body into a position that's practically standing, his hands uneasily resting on the armchair's side rests for balance. Cress notices this just as she turns around and practically runs to Dr. Darnel's side. "Wait, dad, don't move so quickly!"

"You worry too much." His eyes are watery, Cress notices, and he's smiling, the creases around his mouth pulling upward. "Just like your mother always did."

Cress has to bite the inside of her cheek before she says something she regrets with _your mother_ being brought into the conversation, and she squashes down the resentment and chalks it up to him needing sleep. "Let's get you to bed."

"Where's Jacin? Has he gone home?" Dr. Darnel shuffles along the floor in his oversized and worn blue slippers, and Cress wraps his arm around her thin shoulders to keep his steps steady, but she also knows that her father won't put all of his body weight on her and thus her support hardly makes any difference.

"He's in the guest room. I told him to stay overnight." Cress's eyebrows knit together with worry as one of her father's steps is just a tad bit too unstable. "Dad, are you sure you don't want to eat anything?"

Dr. Darnel is smiling, though. "I see. As long as he stays there." And he _winks_. He _winks_.

Embarrassment colors her cheeks the color of ripe tomatoes and Cress would've swatted at her father's arm if she wasn't attempting to help him up the stairs, the implications of his statement scandalous but also incorrect, and she _still_ isn't sure how to tell him that she's not interested in Jacin or vice versa. "Dad!"

"No, I don't feel like eating," Dr. Darnel says, answering Cress's earlier question as if he hadn't just caused his daughter's embarrassment, his smile mischievous, his footsteps slow going up each stair.

It takes a good five minutes just to get him up the stairs, Cress pulling him towards the master bedroom gently, and he's wrapped in blankets in bed and she fusses over him, she can't help it, and while she _doesn't_ blame Iko, she can't say that she said anything remotely nice or open-minded about Iko when she'd learned about her father being drugged. Which, any other person might think was okay, because how often would a person forgive someone who caused their father harm? But Cress doesn't think like that. She understands Iko's upbringing, and forgives her for the misunderstanding, but she also feels a tinge of undirected anger, just a smidge of it, because she needs to be upset at someone for her father's state.

Maybe she'll just blame her mother. That works. Cress likes to blame her mother for a lot of things.

"You don't need anything, dad?" Cress asks, and then her fussing resumes, as she tucks a second blanket firmly under her father's arm and plumps his pillows, noting that his pillowcases are dusty and wonders how long he's gone without using them and/or washing them and mentally tells herself she'll do laundry when he's not sleeping. "Water? Antacids?"

"I don't, Crescent. Now go on! Go to sleep, I'll be fine." Dr. Darnel's smile is fond, and Cress returns it, placing her hand on his forehead once before she reluctantly makes her way out of his room, closing the door behind her, the sound comforting as she knows her dad can't leave the room or his bed without unlocking it. She flicks on the hallway light before returning downstairs to turn of all the kitchen lights, already running through her natural nightly routine which is brushing her teeth and changing into pajamas but resolves to add another step of bringing her father a cup of water though he continues insisting that he doesn't need one. She hums, once, as she descends, but then she stops in her tracks.

Carswell Thorne is in her living room.

He raises one finger to his lips, and Cress almost shrieks, and she might've had she not slammed her own palm over her mouth, eyes wide as she takes in Thorne's bloodied hair and a cut that leaks blood running across his forehead. The stair that she's standing on creaks, and Cress jumps, her hands scrambling to cling onto the stairway rail before Thorne takes a quiet step forward, the lights from the kitchen a soft orange and far away enough so that Cress can't quite pinpoint the severity of his wounds, as late night shadows obstruct his face from a clear view.

"I'll get Jacin," Cress squeaks, her voice sounding high-pitched and loud to her own ears, and she vaguely notices that her knuckles are turning white as her grip on the rail tightens. _Honestly. Of all the things she could've said, she went with that._ "Y-you're-"

Thorne shakes his head quickly, hands outstretched in what he probably assumes is non-threatening while Cress still isn't sure if she wants to know what he's done. "No," he whispers, loudly, "Don't wake him up."

"B-but don't you need medical attention?" Cress lowers her voice, but it doesn't stop her eyes from being frantic, her mind running with the various possibilities in which Thorne would be bleeding in her home, and she worries, too. She's no medical student like Jacin or doctor like her father, but she can't help but feel that the cut he has is troubling.

Thorne brings his fingers to touch the crown of his head and looks surprised when they come back stained red. "No. That's not important right now."

"T-Thorne, you should-"

"I need your help." Thorne glances around her living room. "Do you have your phone?"

Cress nods, blindly, and she fumbles in her pocket for it, holding it out, but she winces when his bloody hand takes it in her palm, expecting him to make a call or something, and definitely not anticipating what Thorne does next. He throws the phone on the floor, and Cress audibly gasps as he retrieves it, shaking the broken screen so that the excess glass shards fall to the floor and he works the SIM card out of its holding place, tossing aside the battery as he does so. When he sees the look on Cress's face, he apologetically states, "I'll pay for it."

"You can't-!" Alarmed, Cress is gripping onto her hair as a lifeline, the tangled blonde strands woven in her fingers, and she wonders if Jacin has heard the crash from upstairs and hopes that her father hasn't been roused. The words she'd been about to say die in her throat, and she doesn't know how to end the sentence. She wants to scream at Thorne that her phone could've had something important on it (though it didn't, all of her important records are saved on burner disks and her laptop and all her phone _really_ has in a great high score on some generic bubble-popping game) but she can't force her vocal cords to say such a thing. But it's not because she thinks he's devilishly handsome. She feels that that is an important distinction to make.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I can't have you on the grid. If Scarlet finds out where I've been, I'm dead meat. If _Jacin_ finds out that I'm taking you with me, I'm dead meat." Thorne rummages in the pocket of his motorcycle jacket and Cress notices that he smells like cigarettes and she's also _blushing_ because of the 'sweetheart' term, the endearment nothing special but _everything_ special when he directs it to her and she's so caught up in it that she almost misses when Thorne pulls out a lighter and burns the SIM card right in front of her face- really, the only reason she notices at all is because the smell of burning plastic reaches her nostrils, and she's brought back to reality, and realizes what he's said.

"Taking me where?" Cress asks, and she's embarrassed to say that her voice trembles- out of anxiety or out of fear, she's not quite sure.

"I need you to find me someone. You're good with computers, right? Maybe you could track him down, or, run his name against some sort of criminal database or whatever you do with your fancy computer tech-"

"Thorne," Cress interrupts, oddly flattered at the idea that Thorne's come in search for her and her skill set but also thinking that she can't work on finding someone without an inkling of who they are. "Who is it?"

"Wolf. You remember him, right? That one who broke into Scarlet's house- actually, you weren't there to hear his life story, but you saw him, at least-"

" _Thorne_ ," Cress repeats, as he rambles, and she's really, really worried that he's delirious or suffering from some sort of head trauma because of that forehead cut and also because she can guess that he's been hit on the head by some form of blunt object which also must inherently mean he got into a brawl with someone else. "I need...specifics. Something to go off of."

"Ze'ev Kelsey," Thorne blurts out. "My contacts say that's his name, but none of them know where he is. I was hoping you could help me with that."

Cress does remember Wolf, the one Winter had recognized, that large, bulky, intimidating man with the scorching green eyes, yet she's not sure what Thorne means when he says that she hadn't been there to witness 'life story,' whatever Thorne means by that, and as a result struggles to come to a direct conclusion as to why Thorne needs him. "Are your contacts- trustworthy?" Cress settles for asking that, a tinge concerned, because she knows that Thorne's companions as a conman aren't the most ethical of people, and she doesn't want to waste her time on a dead end.

"They're trustworthy enough," Thorne answers, and the way he says it makes Cress shut her mouth on elaborating anymore on the subject. "Look, can you help me or not?"

Cress wishes she weren't so quick to practically shout, "Yes," and she pinches her own forearm immediately afterward with a wince, altering her voice to a more natural tone to repeat, "Yes. I can- I can try."

"Thank you," Thorne responds, relief tinting the words, and he exhales a shaky breath, almost laughing with his gratitude, and Cress, a self-declared expert on the workings of Carswell Thorne's profile, can tell that something is wrong.

Cress wants nothing more than to cradle his injured face in her palms but she settles for awkwardly shuffling her feet, pressing her back against the wall, and mumbling, "I'll- I'll go-" And, ever so eloquently, shakes her hands vaguely in the direction of her upstairs bedroom.

 _Smooth, Cress._

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Cinder, pressed against the stiff leg of the coat, is gingerly startled awake, the back of her skull thumping against the wooden post, her hair sticking to her face with perspiration and she groggily cracks her eyes open to see that she's been awakened by her own slumping body, which has dangerously threatened to fall onto the hard, unforgiving floor, and she shifts upward, her disoriented head swimming and close to falling asleep again, her nightmare looming in her head before she's distracted by the sight that greets her.

Winter has her hands in Kai's hair. Her lithe fingers are combing through his thick locks, parted tufts of her hair tied up with multicolored barrettes and hair ties that must belong to Cress and have been borrowed from Scarlet's bathroom, as is the emptied bottle of hair gel that sits at Winter's feet. She's crosslegged while Kai's head lies in her lap, and she styles to her heart's content, humming a lovely ditty that sounds familiar to Cinder's ears, and, Cinder smiles, eyes lulling shut once more.

"Oh, Cinder, you're awake!" Iko gives Cinder's shoulder a little shake, and Cinder watches through half-lidded eyes as Iko beams brilliantly. "We thought you were asleep. Can I do your hair, too?"

Cinder obliges her, because Iko is hard to say no to- in fact, Cinder isn't sure she ever wants to refuse Iko anything. "Sure."

Iko crawls into a seated position and gestures for Cinder to sit in between her legs, her knees upright and pushed apart so that Cinder can have her hairline at Iko's eye level.

Cinder jostles her stiff limbs but relaxes in Iko's capable arms, while Iko takes the hairbrush from Winter and begins to comb through the tangles that Cinder has neglected as of late. The bristles of the brush are oddly soothing, scratching against her scalp, and Iko smells like the strawberry pie Scarlet made for dessert, sweet and faintly of graham crackers.

"Did we run out of tea?" Winter asks, as she pats the top of Kai's head, the gel in his hair making random strands stand upright as if he's been shocked by electricity- hardly the most eclectic of the look, though, as he has about seven barrettes in different colors pinning sections of his hair back as well as hair ties that have sectioned parts of his hair into tiny ponytails.

"Tea?" Iko echoes, confusedly, as she begins to part Cinder's hairline. "We didn't have tea."

"Nonsense, of course we did. You found it in Scarlet's cabinet. The jars of tea." Winter looks around, puzzled. "I seem to have misplaced my own cup."

"Winter, do you mean the _moonshine_?" Iko's voice grows urgent. "You weren't supposed to drink it like tea!"

"Moonshine?" Kai questions, and he sits upright, drawing his knees to his chest. Cinder pretends not to notice that his shirt is slipping off his shoulder because it makes her heart race and she screws her eyes closed again, attempting to ward away any stupid, ridiculous notion such as blushing. "What's that?"

"It's like- liquor," Iko offers up, just as her fingers still in Cinder's hair, a half-formed braid flopping unceremoniously onto Cinder's neck. "I found a few jars of it and thought it'd be a nice icebreaker for us- I didn't think Winter would drink it all, _God_ , Winter, are you okay?"

"I am just fine, Iko-friend." Winter leans against the thin wall, pressing her cheek up to the metal surface and sighing longingly. "Though I do feel quite faint."

"Do you drink liquor, Winter?" Iko asks, the worry in her voice evident.

"Not often. Champagne, mostly. Rosé, at times. This tea is different from anything I've had."

"You're going to be _so_ hungover tomorrow morning," Iko laments, looking towards Kai. "Do you think you could carry her to bed?"

"I'll do my best." Kai scrambles to stand up, and he holds out his hands for Winter to grab onto. "Winter, can you walk?"

Winter smiles, and she melts into the wall. "I can _fly_."

"She's drunk," Iko flatly states.

Cinder, feeling herself worry at the thought of Winter being in duress, immediately stands to help Kai attempt to pick Winter up off the floor.

"That explains my hair." Amused, Kai links his arms around Winter's waist and lifts, but he struggles. Cinder positions Winter's head and straightens her spine, while Winter bonelessly sinks to the ground, both Kai and Cinder's best efforts seemingly in vain.

"Actually, she could stay here. I won't mind." Iko snaps her fingers as if the thought has just occurred to her. "She can sleep on the cot, and I'll take the floor."

"Iko," Kai says, "You don't have to do that, we could-"

"No, I want to. It'd be nice to have company, anyway." Iko is smiling, but her eyes are sad. Cinder wonders if Iko's ever had friends before, as she's garnered that Iko has a boisterous personality and is overtly happy and peppy and overbearing in her attempts to befriend the other code sixes, and she doesn't like to be alone, apparently, as Cinder has come to guess. After all, Iko's idea to invite all the code sixes into her room after lights out simply to talk and spend time together is far too social a setting for Cinder to be comfortable in. She isn't even sure if Iko is allowed to do this and wonder if Scarlet knows. And if she'd agreed. Sure, Scarlet isn't their keeper, but she _does_ have rules, and Cinder isn't sure where 'staying up late to do hair' ranks.

"Alright. If you say so." Kai doesn't press on the topic any further and instead helps Cinder maneuver Winter towards the cot, Winter waking up briefly to take a step or two before flailing and Cinder gripping onto her arms before she can pitch forward. Iko stands to help them both, but Winter is deposited onto the cot without the use of extra force, which dips under her weight, and Iko places a patterned quilt over Winter's dozing figure once Cinder and Kai step away.

Cinder watches Iko's tender movement and wonders what her story is. As code sixes, she knows that they're all looking to escape, but she doesn't know details, and she's not supposed to. It's not her place to know these things, yet it doesn't stop her from wondering. Iko, so happy, so optimistic, so friendly, must have had to leave someplace terrible. It's sickening. Iko's boisterous personality always has her crossing lines and respecting boundaries simultaneously- Cinder has yet to figure out _how_ \- but for someone who doesn't like to talk about her past, she's so optimistic and outgoing and Cinder finds it so easy to trust her, to talk to her, to be around her.

It's hard to think about leaving. Just a little.

Kai closes the door to Iko's room, taking careful care to make sure it doesn't slam (Cinder thinks that perhaps their late night activities have not been sanctioned by Scarlet at all). He's silent for a minute or so, and Cinder's so preoccupied with thought, that she barely notices when he starts talking.

"...Cinder?"

Cinder snaps out of her trance. "Hmm?"

"Can you help me?" Sheepishly, Kai gestures to the mess in his hair. "I don't want to fall asleep like this."

"Oh...sure." He's taller than her by a few inches, but he ducks down so that Cinder's gloved hands can awkwardly fumble around in his hair, releasing the clasps from the barrettes and attempting to disentangle ties. He's so close that she can fixate on the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, and he smells like the honey-lavender soap Scarlet keeps in the communal shower. Winter certainly went to town on his hair, though, and Cinder hopes it doesn't hurt as she yanks especially hard on a butterfly-shaped silvery clip that comes back with more hair than must be normal. "Sorry," she adds, anyway, as an afterthought, and keeps that clip grasped in her hand without knowing where to keep it.

"It's okay." Kai smiles, but Cinder can't see his eyes with the way he's hunched over. "Here." He offers his cupped palms, and Cinder deposits the mess of hair accessories she's managed to wrangle out out into them gratefully.

There are a lot of bobby pins camouflaged in his hair, Cinder notices, which is irritating enough, but also has her running her fingers through the strands a few times to make sure that she hasn't missed any. But then she pulls back, embarrassed, because obviously Kai could pull those out on his own- she should've just stuck to grasping the harder-to-reach clips and barrettes. "I think that's it."

"Thanks." Kai straightens and runs a hand through his hair, too, ruffling the strands appreciatively. He's smiling still, and Cinder wishes she weren't so uneasy around him all the time. "Hey, uh, so, see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Cinder agrees, and she looks down the narrow hallway, not feeling that she's ready to go back to sleep. All she can think of is Peony. Peony's smiling face, her white sneakers sidestepping puddles, the navy colored uniform skirt that always flounced around her thighs.

Peony watching her sister die.

"Hey." Kai's gentle voice breaks her free from her reverie. "Are you alright?"

Cinder blinks, eyes wide. "Yes."

Kai is studying her. With a strange expression. A knowing one, maybe, or one of pity and recognition. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I mean, I can't- I can't ask that of you." Cinder looks at the floor helplessly.

"If you want, I can listen. Or- I can talk, too- I-I haven't actually-"

Cinder already knows what he's struggling to say, and so she accepts. "Okay."

The hair accessories are left behind, set on the floor just outside Iko's room, but they both decide to take their conversation outside rather than stay cooped up in the shelter. Sneaking out of the kitchen's back door, however, which isn't an easy feat. The doors are rigged with an alarm system- regrettably, Cinder's method of disarming the device means taking the batteries out of it, but she keeps them in her pocket for safekeeping and figures that she'll put them back without Scarlet ever finding out. When she's sure that it's safe to continue, she gently pulls on the handle and hopes that the screen door doesn't creak like the previous one, pushing away the netted obstacle before stepping into the cool night air.


End file.
